


The Undoing

by LornaLane



Series: Quocumque Modo [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Character Death, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 204,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LornaLane/pseuds/LornaLane
Summary: Valeria Winters and Draco Malfoy are forced into a position that neither dreamed imaginable. Their seventh year becomes a tumultuous fight to remain safe and alive while desperately clinging to each other, as their world descends into one ruled by fear and force. Sides must be chosen, great sacrifices must be made, and hope revived.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Quocumque Modo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1363867
Comments: 239
Kudos: 189





	1. Prologue: Arrangements

_"When it ends?" she asked._

_"I'll be there."_

_******_

“Odessa, any news on the whereabouts of your daughter?” Voldemort asked. All eyes were on Valeria’s mother now, save for Draco’s who made sure to continue keeping his gaze down at the mere mention of Valeria.

“None, my Lord. She’s stopped writing to me,” Odessa said in a voice that attempted to mask the pain of saying those words. Draco had been avoiding Odessa since he returned home, but she had managed to corner him a few times and interrogated him with a barrage of questions asked in desperation, as any distraught parent would. Odessa asked him everything; Valeria grades, her well-being, her best subject, mention of her family, and on and on. Draco did his best to give her reassuring answers without revealing much of the truth, according to his mother’s instruction, who claimed that Odessa’s state of mind was far too fragile for anything more. He kept a great deal of secrets from everyone he could regarding Valeria as the Dark Lord could easily penetrate any mind in the room. It was for their own good, but he had his own selfish reasons too.

“My Lord, if I may, I believe it is safe to assume that the Greengrass report is correct and Valeria is likely currently with the Order, whether that be by choice or not is unclear,” Snape said. Draco did not look up to see Voldemort’s reaction.

“I’m inclined to agree, Severus,” Voldemort said. “A shame too, a witch of such noble birth in the hands of degenerates. The last of the house of Winters is surely an asset, it does not do to have her be in their possession.” He sounded as though he was musing aloud, but Draco gulped, cringing at the manner of which he spoke of her; an object of advantage. He meant to keep her out of all this and he prayed he would never hear her name come out of their mouths, but his pleas fell on the ears of a deaf God.

“Draco, this time last year I was told that you care a great deal for Valeria Winters. Tell me, do these feelings remain?” Voldemort asked, devoid of feeling. Draco did not want to remember last summer and how his aunt probed at his mind during Occlumency training, discovering his adolescent heartache for his friend. It was his own weakness that put Valeria in danger when Bellatrix dutifully reported Draco’s deepest thoughts to the Dark Lord. It was because of him that the threat of death was not exclusive to the Malfoy family. Draco’s stomach dropped and his mouth went dry and he could sense his parents’ tension beside him. He wracked his brian for the best answer, knowing that things would be much worse were he to lie. He could feel Odessa’s intense eyes on and he could not bear to look at her. Valeria had inherited her mother’s eyes.

“She has been a good friend to me, sir. I do care for her well-being,” Draco answered.

“The girl is a traitor!” Bellatrix protested.

“Calm yourself, Bella,” Voldemort said.

“We cannot be entirely certain of that. To me it seems she has been kept largely in the dark, in ignorance, towards our cause and has been preyed upon by other influences. From my observations, her loyalties remain undetermined,” Snape said. Draco was grateful for Snape’s calm objection to his aunt’s raving.

“Then perhaps we should address that, starting with the one that raised her.” Bellatrix quipped, glaring with a sinister sneer at Odessa.

“Silence,” Voldemort commanded. “I agree with Severus. The girl is not completely hopeless, though the threat of others poisoning her mind gives me pause, considering her actions the night of Draco’s failure. Is she a capable young witch, Severus?”

Snape nodded. “Yes, my Lord. She is gifted at Potions especially and has shown a keen interest in the deeper mysteries and questions of magic, much more so than any of her peers. I respectfully remind you that she was rather cunning in assisting Draco last year, albeit unknowingly.”

“Not to mention an impeccable bloodline, which is invaluable in the increase of our numbers.”

“Most certainly, sir,” Snape agreed.

“I have had an interesting idea that I would like your opinion on, Draco,” Voldemort said. Draco looked up, clenching his jaw, feeling his palms start to sweat. “I believe we can retrieve the girl and bring her here. We’ll of course need to find out what she knows of the Order’s plans and that of Harry Potter’s, the extraction of which I will place in the hands of you, Bellatrix. Should she prove honest and loyal, I believe it would be advantageous to set a good example for young witches and wizards by returning to the old ways and uniting the houses of Malfoy and Winters in marriage.”

Draco felt faint. He thought he was in a dream. It could not be real. His heart leapt into his throat, feeling the stares of the entire table, most especially Odessa’s.

“My Lord, this is a most humbling offer, but they are so young. I am not sure if they are ready for—”

“Are they both not seventeen years of age, Lucius?” Voldemort said.

Lucius nodded. “Yes, but they have not even completed their educations. Perhaps a betrothal would be better for them until they are done with school.”

“This would not bar them from completing their educations. In fact, this will strengthen them whilst being a fine example to their peers,” Voldemort said with contempt to his former right-hand man. Draco knew that was the only defense he would get from his father and he glanced down to see his mother wringing her hands in her lap. “What say you, Odessa?”

She inhaled sharply before speaking. “If it be your will, my Lord.” Voldemort seemed most pleased with her meek answer, like the woman had a choice otherwise.

“And Draco, what is your opinion on the matter?”

All eyes turned to Draco, but his mind was spinning, heart racing, he could barely breathe. He had not seen this coming. The arranging of marriages amongst pureblood families, particularly for young people, had fallen out of fashion long, long ago. This was what he dreaded. This was the punishment for his failure and her lack of expressed loyalty to the dark cause.

“It would be an honor, my Lord. Thank you,” Draco managed to reply. The only thing he had to be thankful for was that his answer pleased the Dark Lord.

“It’s settled then. Draco and Valeria will wed. It is my hope that Draco will be a positive influence on her and the joining of your families will continue the proud legacy of pure bloodlines.”

Draco went straight to his room at the other end of the Manor after the meeting concluded and he recovered, avoiding speaking to the others if he could help it. He loosened his collar and felt the panic rising; the hastened breath, the heart on the edge of explosion, the cold sweat, the urge to run away as far as he could. He locked his door and immediately went to his window and stuck his head outside for fresh air, but instead wretched, unable to erase the sight of the death of Professor Burbage.

Nearly panting, he cleaned himself up and sat, his body trembling. His eye caught the movement of a photograph on his desk. He was with his friends in the Slytherin common room, beginning of the fifth year. Pansy, Zabini, Daphne, even Crabbe and Goyle all standing smiling or with their arms around each other’s shoulders. He himself was pictured standing alongside Valeria, his arm snaked around her back and his hand resting gently on her waist. Her head ever so slightly leaned towards him as she smiled, on the verge of laughter. Not a hair out of place, her eyes full of excitement for the coming year. He had not seen it at the time, the flawless innocence that then graced her face. He had seen the photograph hundreds of times since, but saw now how happy he was, proud to have her on his arm, surrounded by friends in his favorite place in the castle.

The longer he looked, the angrier he became, most of all with himself. He slammed his fist on the table, ignoring the white-hot pain, and cursed loudly. Frustrated, trapped, he began to weep, softly but surely. He eventually made his way to one of the sofas in his room, unable to bear being around the photographs of her any longer, and sat holding his face in his hands, staring down at the floor with futility.

He did not know how long he had been sitting when he heard a knock on his door. He did his best to wipe any evidence of tears from his face and went to unlock it. His father stood there behind his mother, both with concerned looks, but both maintaining composure. His father sat on the sofa across from him while his mother sat beside him.

“We understand that this is quite a shock for you, Draco. It is for us, and Odessa, too,” Lucius began awkwardly. Draco didn’t respond, looking away from both of them. His mother placed a hand on his arm and reached the other one around his shoulders. “There is no way out of it, son. Once Valeria is captured, and it seems she will be, and cooperates with questioning, you will be married to her.”

A shiver shot down Draco’s spine, he had completely forgotten about the questioning Valeria would endure. Their only hope was that she would manage to avoid being discovered and he had no way to forewarn her.

“We know this is upsetting, but you must remain—”

“She hates me,” Draco said.

“What are you talking about?” Narcissa asked.

Draco recounted his flight from Hogwarts. How she had jinxed Goyle to break out of Slytherin house and witnessed the death of Dumbledore. How she chased him down at the edge of the grounds and screamed at him, begging him not to go. Dumbledore’s promise, that she could forgive him, seemed impossible now. He kept to himself the nightmares of her screaming at him, nearly stepping off the edge of the tower, and the torture she endured. His mother rubbed his shoulder gently as he recalled the story to her.

“That hardly matters now, Draco,” Narcissa said.

“Of course it matters! How can I marry someone who hates me? How can either of us do this?” He asked.

“Because you must,” Lucius insisted. “You must keep in mind the responsibility that will become yours once you are married. You must remember the Malfoy legacy.” His father leaned in, desperation in his exhausted face. “This is an opportunity, if you do well, to regain our status, especially if, after you both complete your studies, you should conceive a child—”

“Lucius!” Narcissa hissed, holding Draco, who nearly vomited again at the thought, tighter. “Not now!”

“He needs to understand what is expected of him,” Lucius defended. Draco hadn’t even thought of children. While most of his peers weren’t giving a single thought to their romantic futures, there he was saddled with the sudden burden of marriage and fatherhood that would come sooner than later. He felt nauseous. He should have gathered that it would be expected of them to produce a child eventually. This would kill her, at the very least her soul. There was no doubt in his mind that this would break her completely and forever, and he felt worse by the second.

“We will cross that bridge when we get it,” Narcissa said through her teeth. She turned back to Draco, leaning close to him. “Listen to me. Your father is right that a large responsibility has fallen on you. You need to keep in mind that once you are married, she is your family and your first priority. Do you understand?” Draco nodded. “And I expect you to treat her with all the dignity and respect she deserves.” Draco nodded again.

“Your mother will handle the arrangements when the time arrives. We’ve also assured Odessa that her daughter will be in good hands.”

Draco gulped. “I will do my best,” he said, not believing his own words. It was all too surreal. He could not fathom it and his heart sank knowing his parents were powerless to stop this. Narcissa nodded and reached into a pocket and opened his hand, placing in a small silver colored ring with deep purple jewels adorning it.

“Give this to her when the time comes. Odessa will likely be sent away shortly after Valeria arrives, as it’s been decided to keep them separated. She asked that this be given to Valeria as it was her grandmother’s. Keep it somewhere safe until then.”

His parents eventually left him, Narcissa giving him a reassuring kiss on the head. He sat back and let his head hang back. If things were like they were just a few years ago, and if they were a little older, a marriage with Valeria would have elated both of their families. The union would have made them likely the most influential people in their corner of the wizarding world. He had never thought of marrying her, or anyone, not yet anyway. He had once desperately wanted to take her to Hogsmeade, or on a date, simply pass time with her in the common room, and of course, secretly, the other things that a young man his age desired.

Marriage, the mere thought of it was so far away, too far to even see. He felt heaviness in his chest knowing that he would have to tell her that she had no option but to marry him and eventually mother their children.

He was not so naïve as he was even a year ago. He knew this was not altruistic blessing bestowed upon them. A twofold strategic move; demonstrating the way of things under the fast-coming new order and a punishment for them and their families. He prayed one last time, at least it resembled a prayer in his mind, to any being that would listen; That she stay hidden and far away. That was their only hope.


	2. The Burrow, Again

_"What do you do when you can't play the part anymore?" she asked him._

_"I think like you," he responded._

_*****_

Valeria was miserable.

Two horridly miserable months that were leaps and bounds worse than the previous summer she spent at the Burrow. The demands of her confinement alone were enough to drive her mad. Before arrival, all of her personal belongings were rifled through and checked for dark enchantments or presences. Of course, all practice of anything resembling dark magic was prohibited. Given her involvement in the poisoning of Ron Weasley, her cauldron and potions supplies were confiscated, to her dismay. Thankfully, Daphne was in possession of the things she would hate to lose, on strict orders not to tell a single soul. Valeria was not allowed to leave the property, which was heavily fortified with defensive enchantments, under any circumstances or for any reason, save for direct orders or in the event of a Death Eater ambush. She was not to be left alone in the house, and while not under constant direct supervision, she felt as though there were eyes upon her at all times.

Most egregiously, she was not to have any indirect outside communication, unless approved. Meaning, that letters to her friends were not permitted. This was, supposedly, to mitigate risk of her discovery with the Order, but the risk hardly mattered in contrast to the scale of her loneliness.

It went without saying, but her presence was at best barely tolerated and in some cases completely unwelcome. Ginny sneered at Valeria every chance she got, which was humorous at first, but was becoming more aggravated in her extreme isolation. Ron, naturally, would barely look at her and his other siblings seemed at the very least wary. Arthur Weasley was kind to his family and short with Valeria the few times they interacted, but Molly Weasley at least tried to put on a good face, which Valeria somewhat respected.

June was the worst of it. That was the time when everyone walked on eggshells made of sharp glass around Valeria, which she expected, but was still hard to endure. Once wedding preparations picked up for the marriage of Bill and Fleur, most were too distracted and busy to focus on Valeria, but tension remained. As for Valeria, wedding decorations, guest lists, and the other mundane details of such events held no interest for her. It seemed almost garish to have a wedding when the entire wizarding world was hanging on by a thread.

She had accepted the terms of her confinement on the condition that this would end after her final year of school, whatever might become of her then. She also stated that she would not be assisting with household duties beyond maintaining her quarters nor would she answer any questions about any sort of insider knowledge or her experiences of late save for explicit Ministry demand. She gave the Weasley’s money weekly in part to accommodate for the cost of housing her and as a means to keep peace. With everything stacked against her, the last thing she needed was accusation of freeloading.

She had managed to cultivate something of a routine. She arrived at every meal early, skipping breakfast entirely, and eating as quickly as could. Should would read _The Prophet_ in the coat closet the Weasleys seemed to believe qualified as a bedroom, scouring for any news regarding her family, friends, Draco and herself in addition to staying informed. She would go for a long walk in the afternoons, even in the rain, for a change of scenery. In the evenings, she read voraciously. She had read of reread all the books she brought with her and had politely asked to read the ones in the household with approval. Most of the books were about Muggle technologies, frivolous romance novels, or Quidditch anthologies and guides which she avoided.

Each night she would recite to herself in silence the words from Draco’s final letter, the one he commanded her to burn, which she did after memorizing it.

_‘I’m sorry. For everything, from the beginning, from forever.’_

She knew it would be his last letter for some time. In the late hours, in the sanctuary of her glorified storage closet, she spent time awake with worry and consumed by her dark thoughts. She was so angry with Draco, but desperately missed him. She hated him for the lie, his promise that she would have been safe by now, she hated that she believed him. But she missed the lies and needed the hope of them now more than ever.

She missed her belongings, her home, her friends, her family all at once. She missed the life, gone forever, that she once had that Draco represented. He was all that was left of it.

She strengthened her resolve one late morning and descending the creaking stairs, she heard the chatter lower to mutters as she made her entrance. Ron looked away as she came into the kitchen and Ginny, helping her mother getting lunch ready, turned her nose up in disgust.

“Ah, Valeria. Let’s get you a cup of tea,” Mrs. Weasley, out of duty more than anything, as Valeria took a seat. Valeria stared down into the cup neatly placed in front of her and Mrs. Weasley knew Valeria’s routine well enough to place _The Daily Prophet_ before her as well. She almost didn’t speak, but she could keep silent no longer. The injustice had gone on far too long.

“Mr. Weasley,” she said. The others all turned to her, surprise in their eyes at the sound of her voice. Arthur looked up from his copy of the paper. “Might I make a request?”

“Of course,” he said with a friendliness she had yet to hear him address her with.

“I’d like to visit my brother’s grave,” Valeria said. If hearing her start a conversation didn’t knock the others off their feet, hearing those words nearly did. She panicked at the sudden silence. “I’d cooperate with any security measures that would need to be taken. I didn’t get to attend the funeral, sir. I just want a chance to say goodbye.” Glancing at Mrs. Weasley, she appeared sympathetic.

“Where is he buried, if I may ask,” Arthur asked. This was the part Valeria was worried about.

“On my family’s estate,” she said. Arthur looked to his children in the room.

“Ron, Ginny, can you give us a moment?” Arthur asked. The two younger Weasleys cleared out of the room as quickly as they could without running while Molly took a seat beside her husband.

“Perhaps if we send someone ahead, just to clear it of any threats,” Molly suggested.

“You can’t,” Valeria said, to the Weasleys surprise. “It’s enchanted. No one can enter without being invited by a Winters. You will need me to even find it probably.”

“That’s right. Your mother allowed us to inspect it shortly after the battle at the Department of Mysteries,” Arthur said, choosing his words carefully. This was news to Valeria. “We found nothing, of course. Are you aware of any potential dangers or illegal dark objects at the estate?”

Valeria shook her head. “My father held meetings that my brother would also attend, that I know. Otherwise, there’s nothing they ever made me aware of.” She conveniently left out certain information in regard to the many small secret passages and other hidden rooms she knew about. Arthur thought for a moment.

“Let me make a few inquiries and we’ll let you know later today. How’s that sound?” he asked.

“I appreciate it. Thank you, both,” Valeria said. She finished her tea quietly and afterwards retreated to her small room to read _The Prophet_. The news was all out of sorts since the death of Dumbledore and it was difficult to discern what could even be trusted. After a long while of perusing the mess that was the latest news, a small headline deep within the folds of the paper caught her eye.

 _A Bright Future Gone Dark: The Baffling Case of Valeria Winters_

_The youngest child of the now infamous Winters family, Valeria Winters (17) appears to have fallen just as spectacularly from grace along with her once esteemed surname. Her whereabouts are currently unknown and shrewd readers will remember that she disappeared, to the great worry of the wizarding community, this time last year after her family’s malevolent dealings were revealed at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. It has recently come to light, according to one of my anonymous sources, that the young girl may have had a major role in the plot to assassinate Albus Dumbledore. It may not be out of the realm of possibility that she took the time on the run last year to devise her plans for vengeance and one can only imagine what sinister schemes she’s currently cooking up._

_Once the pride of Slytherin House, a girl with the entire world at her feet, Winters was set to soar to the top of the Wizarding World on the wind of her family’s money and power, as well as her own wits. It is safe to assume now that she has been thoroughly seduced by darker forces, just as her father and brother before her._

Valeria shook with rage, reading and rereading the article. It could not be real. _The Prophet_ had not so very long ago sung her family’s praises and happily reported on her finding safety last year. Now, it was ruin. All of it. Her express quest to repair and maintain her reputation, her good name, was for naught. She traded the one thing that mattered most, the one thing that had a chance in hell of coming out of this unscathed, for trying to save Draco’s life.

The Order would never fully accept her, that much was clear. Too much damage had been done. The other side didn’t look promising either, after they tortured her in an attempt to get Draco to do something he was fundamentally incapable of. And then he left her behind. Playing both sides, skirting the lines as her family had done with two-faced cunning for decades, failed her. A choice would come, she knew, but she could not fathom of it now. Instead she threw the paper to the floor and wept with her face in her hands.

And then there was a knock on the door. They must have heard her crying for Mrs. Weasley opened the door and entered followed by her husband. Despite the profound mistrust that Valeria felt Molly exude each day, the woman’s maternal instincts seemingly could not be corrupted as she rushed to kneel in front of where Valeria sat.

“Valeria, what’s happened?” Molly asked. Valeria’s chest was heaving as she cried and she could barely speak.

“I—I can’t. It’s all o—over…”

Valeria hadn’t noticed Arthur picking up the paper she had tossed to the floor and looking through it.

“Molly…” he said, handing the paper, turned to the article in question, to his wife. Molly took it and glanced over it.

“What is th—? ‘The Baffling Case of Valeria Winters’…? They’re allowed to print this?!” Molly said.

“It’s all speculation, so I’m afraid so,” Arthur said regretfully. Molly put her hands on Valeria’s knees.

“You pay that no mind, understand? You pay that trash no mind. The people who matter know it’s not true and that’s what you need to remember,” Molly said. Valeria was as grateful as she could manage to be, but the meat of Molly’s words fell mostly on deaf ears. There was no way Mrs. Weasley could ever understand the mountain of pain that Valeria had been forced to climb.

“We’ve decided that it would be a good idea for you to visit your home,” Arthur said. Valeria perked up, having nearly forgotten her request earlier in the day. “Tonks will accompany us, just as a precaution. We can schedule the journey as soon as possible, if you like.”

The news relieved Valeria enough to calm her some. “Yes. I—I’d like that.”

Arthur nodded. “Then it’s settled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and for sticking around! I'll edit out any mis-types in the near future.


	3. The Eulogy of Konstantin Winters

_"What would he do, if he were us?" he asked._

_"Whatever he had to do," she answered._

_*****_

The cool breeze of the Welsh mountain valley was a welcome respite from the heat that plagued the Burrow in midsummer. The remoteness of the rocky landscapes, now covered in short vividly green grass, was so peaceful and so homelike that Valeria nearly forgot her melancholy purpose. Before them, Tonks, Arthur Weasley and herself, stood before a simple but mighty four-towered fortress that the Winters family had called home for centuries. The small castle was isolated in the center of the small lake, as if it had sprung up straight from the water below.

“…It’s incredible,” Tonks said quietly, standing beside Valeria on the lake’s shore. Valeria found Tonks to have a bit of an odd demeanor, the latter’s spirits just a little too high. “How do we get in?” Valeria waved her wand and spoke the enchantment in her mind. Obeying her command, the long stone bridge disturbed the glassy water and rose above the surface, the sound of quickly displaced water filling the quiet valley air.

“Wicked,” Tonks said. “This place, it just feels surrounded by old magic.”

“Ancient,” Valeria corrected, taking a step forward onto the stone bridge, followed by her companions, and as they approached, the great wooden doors slowly swung open as if they sensed her presence. A great relief swept over Valeria’s troubled heart and that gnawing dread rose up in her gut again; she never wanted to leave. For all the heartache and grief surrounding this place, it was still home. Home meant something to her still.

The doors shut behind them once they were all in the entrance hall and Valeria immediately noticed the empty walls. The paintings of her ancestors were gone and some of the room’s grandeur along with them.

“Where are the portraits?” Valeria asked, turning to Mr. Weasley.

“Taken down in the last Ministry raid. Security reasons,” Arthur explained, trying to be as polite as he could. Valeria didn’t argue about it further, though it did irk her.

“I think I’ll collect some of my things first, if that’s alright,” she said. The other two nodded.

“Lead the way,” Tonks said. They followed Valeria to one of the narrow staircases, the one she knew would get them to her room fastest. Inside her small, but stately decorated to her mother’s taste, chamber she began to load up a trunk full of robes she had been unable to wear for over a year. She collected other things as she saw fit; jewelry, glamours, odds and ends, books and sentimental items. She tried not to linger on any object too long, for fear of getting too lost in her own feelings. She magically moved the trunk down to the main entrance of her house when she was finished.

“This must have been a fun place to grow up,” Tonks said, looking around the room. “The halls are a bit too narrow for my taste, though.”

Valeria laughed. “Konstantin used to hide around the corners and jump out to scare me when we were younger. I hated that.” Though now, she wished nothing more than for him to have been hiding around a corner in a winding passage all this time, waiting to jump out and spook her. She didn’t know why she shared the memory to Tonks of all people. It was as if it had fallen out all on its own. Tonks was quiet for a moment.

“Do you want to…go through some of his things? See if there’s anything you’d like to take with you?” Tonks asked as delicately as she could. Valeria considered. The last time she had been in his chambers was the night he died and she didn’t know if she could bear to enter it again. Then again, she did want something of his other than his broom which, other than the book, was the only possession of his she had. She nodded to Tonks and slowly led the way for the three of them to the other end of the castle, which held Konstantin’s rooms. She avoided his study and headed straight for his bedroom.

It was just as she remembered from the night of the Battle at the Department of Mysteries and as eerie as a graveyard. Working up the courage, she stepped inside and it seemed to feel like trespassing for a reason she could not explain. Her heart thumped, overwhelmed with grief and longing. He was everywhere in the room, as if he wasn’t really gone. The posters of his favorite players hung, the subjects moving and looking on with sportsmen’s fierceness, his clothing still hung in his wardrobe, his writing materials still on a little desk where she imagined he penned letters bound for her. The only thing that was different was the empty broom-stand in a forgotten corner of the room.

Tonks too looked around the room, solemnly fascinated by her former classmate. She went to a wall to look at a framed photograph and called Valeria over. Stepping over, she saw what Tonks was looking at and it nearly brought her to tears. The photograph was of Konstantin and herself at a belated birthday party held over the Easter holiday, the latter seated at a table behind an elaborate birthday cake lit with fifteen candles. Konstantin was leaning over embracing her around the shoulders, both of them smiling brighter than she had remembered.

Tonks gently took the framed photograph off the wall and handed it to Valeria. “You should take this one,” she said. Valeria nodded, holding back her tears and took a closer look. It was such a simple, yet now so profound, memory. It had been the last birthday she had celebrated with her family and all of her friends. If only she had known at the time that such a humble thing could never happen again. Valeria could not bear it and went to look around the room more. Slowly she moved about, making her way to the little desk with Tonks following slowly behind.

Far off to the side of the desk were a pair of expensive looking broomsman’s gloves. She knew that he still liked to fly often, even though his Quidditch days were over. She took the gloves too just before Tonks called her over again. Valeria looked at what Tonks directed her to; Another photograph in an obnoxiously gaudy frame, likely Odessa’s doing, of Konstantin in his school years garbed in his Slytherin Quidditch uniform, standing and holding his broom with the proudest look she had ever seen him wear.

“That looks like it’s from seventh year,” Tonks said. “I didn’t get it at the time, but I can see now why every girl in school fancied him.”

“Everyone liked him,” Valeria said, sadly thinking Konstantin’s tarnished name. “He really loved it, didn’t he?” She hated being dragged to Quidditch matches with him and world cups, she told him to shut it when he would talk about this player or that team. She never realized what she was really saying and that he was trying to hold onto what had been ripped away from him. 

Tonks nodded. “I didn’t say it last time we talked, but I think a part of him died a little when he gave up Quidditch. He wasn’t the same after that, from what little I saw.” Valeria’s heart broke a little more to hear that. She picked up the photo and started to take the picture out of the awful frame to take with her, but as she pulled the back of the frame off, a small folded piece of paper fell to the floor. Valeria picked it up and unfolded it to see an old, creased and weathered, picture of Konstantin in his regular Slytherin uniform with his arm around a girl, holding her close and smiling shyly. It was unlike Konstantin to be shy about anything.

“Do you know this girl?” Valeria asked, showing the photograph to Tonks. Tonks eyes widened as she took the picture in hand, looking at it with disbelief.

“Holy shit, that’s Jane,” Tonks said.

“Who?” Valeria asked.

“Jane Masters, the Ravenclaw girl I told you about. Muggleborn,” Tonks explained. Suddenly, Valeria remembered. She hardly believed it was true when Tonks told her as she thought there must have been some mistake. Romantic involvement with muggleborns was something that had been unfathomable to her. Konstantin was her father’s pride and joy, who never stepped out of line and thus, Valeria could not think of a single reason he would fall for a muggleborn, let alone act on those feelings. It made no sense either, the way he ended up, working for the forces that opposed this girl’s very existence.

But now he was gone and her questions would never be answered.

“Why would he allow this photo to be taken?” Valeria asked. Tonks eyed her quizzically. “You said he was secretive about their…relationship. Maybe she pushed him into it, not understanding what damage it could do—”

“Then why would he hold onto this?” Tonks asked. Valeria had to admit, that was an excellent point. She could only imagine the fit her mother would throw if she ever found it, at least while Konstantin still drew breath. To keep the picture after ending it with Jane, after all these years, and bearing the Dark Mark…What could have possibly been going through his head? Valeria looked again at the photo in Tonks’s hands and noticed scribbling on the back. She reached out for the photo and turned it over.

 _For my secret favorite Quidditch captain._

_Love,_

_Your Janey_

Valeria read it aloud to Tonks, who looked just as surprised as Valeria was.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it. He shouldn’t have kept this,” Valeria said.

“Maybe he didn’t _want_ to do what he was supposed to do,” Tonks said.

“What are you implying?” Valeria asked, frustrated.

“That maybe the simplest answer is the right one. Maybe he allowed this to be taken and maybe he kept it here, hidden away all these years, because he loved her,” Tonks said. Valeria was offended.

“You barely knew him! He wouldn’t risk himself, his family, his _name_ for some schoolyard girlfriend,” Valeria said, angered by receiving lectures from the daughter of a known blood traitor.

“Isn’t that precisely what you did?” Tonks asked calmly to Valeria’s ire. This was one subject she would not abide.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Valeria said through her teeth. “Draco isn’t muggleborn…I helped him because he was going to die!”

“Yes, and you sacrificed everything for it; For _his_ life. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t understand the Malfoy thing, but I do know a thing or two about taking risks for someone you love,” Tonks said. Valeria was panicking in her mind, but was sure to maintain a stony expression and reveal nothing to Tonks. There was no way the Auror could be trusted to keep anything to herself or to not use anything against Valeria in the future, should it come to that. The situation with Draco was entirely different and deeply private and Valeria refused to engage any further. She handed the photo back to Tonks.

“Get this to Jane. She should have it, if she’ll take it,” Valeria said.

Tonks shook her head. “Keep it for a bit longer. You can decide later.”

Valeria sighed and folded the picture back up, repackaging it in the frame with the photo from her birthday. She could no longer bear to stand in Konstantin’s room and lead the way out to meet back with Arthur and to contend with the final matter of the day.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Arthur asked as they approached the green courtyard in the center of the square layout of the castle. Open to the air, it smelled of fresh green in the height of summer and on the air, to Valeria’s relief was the scent of lilacs. She slowly approached the small tree in the center of the courtyard, Arthur and Tonks hanging back. The lilacs were still in full bloom, even after Konstantin’s death, enchanted to blossom all year round, despite the harsh mountain climate. It had been a gift from him, from her dearly departed and dearly beloved brother, and he chose to be interred under it.

Sure enough, as she tentatively approached, she saw at the base of the lilac plant an elegantly plain headstone. Tears welled in her eyes as she bid her legs to move against their wish. It was real. He would not be appearing around a corner to surprise her nor he would ever soar through the air on his broom again. He would never lose his mind cheering at a match, nor would he ever attempt to protect her, which he spent his final moments trying to do.

The worst part was, no one would care.

The Wizarding world would make him a villain, the papers already having done an excellent job of tarnishing everything he was. She knew enough about You-Know-Who from the past year to know without a doubt that he would be fictionalized as a weak failure, whose heart wasn’t in the cause. What was the truth, Valeria could not say. There was so little she seemed to know about him. She knew only three things. Konstantin was her big brother. She loved him still. She missed him still, even in her dreams and nightmares.

She knelt down before the stone to read,

 _Here Lies_

_Konstantin Silvester Winters_

_April 16, 1973 – June 18, 1996_

_Cherished Son, No Better Friend,_

_Hopeful Brother_

_“Quocumque Modo”_

She trembled, tears streaming down her face with little whimpers, as she read. The family motto was the stone’s parting words: _By any means necessary._ She read and reread, crying a little harder each time, baffled and heartbroken at the words “ _Hopeful Brother”_ ; She had no idea what that could mean. There was a metal protrusion at the top of the stone, a large locket, that with a shaking a hand she reached for and opened. Inside, yet another photograph of her brother and as proper and handsome as she remembered. Yet, his face was stern and serious, almost lifeless, which was the furthest thing from the truth. Even when it was her son’s grave, their mother could not help but make sure everything about it was perfect.

And then Valeria wept, uncontrollably, and bending over to hide her face as she sobbed. All she could manage to mutter out was, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over. For what she was sorry for was everything. She was sorry he could not be who he wanted, that the world would hear his name and sneer, and that he died pointlessly for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around and for the kudos. I do appreciate them.


	4. Jane Masters

_"Is this what you want?" she asked him bitterly._

_"What else is there?" he asked in return._

_*****_

“Do I need to remind you that she _poisoned_ me?” Ron said early one morning standing away from the house, overrun with people and wedding planning business. 

“We aren’t asking you to be her friend. Just have a little more compassion,” Molly said.

“We’re letting her stay in our house aren’t we? That’s compassion enough,” Ginny said.

“The girl has been through hell—,” Arthur started.

“Well, maybe she deserves it. She helped Malfoy! She helped _them murder_ Dumbledore!” Ginny interjected.

“And then they tortured her and nearly threw her off the tower to get Malfoy to do it himself,” Harry said it himself.

“What’s the point? We still don’t know whose side she’s even on?” Ron said.

“The point is to try to convince her to join on our side. Dirty looks and silence certainly won’t help,” Molly said.

“If she hasn’t chosen by now, then she’s a coward and a lost cause,” Ginny said.

“Or maybe she understands what’s at stake should she choose wrong,” Arthur began. “Tonks believes Valeria can be convinced to our side and after what I saw at the Winters estate, I’m inclined to agree.”

“What has you so sure?”

“Tonks apparently knew Konstantin some in school and, from what she knows, she doesn’t think his heart was truly in it. Given that and her actions so far, Valeria can be given the opportunity of a better choice that her brother did not have,” Arthur explained.

“Ginny, was she not part of the DA? Did she not explicitly help you escape Umbridge and agree to play hostage?” Molly said.

“Yes, and that’s why she hates us!”

“She’s intelligent and grew up around nearly every inner-circle Death Eater. She could be an asset and the more of them we get to do the right thing, the stronger we’ll be,” Arthur said.

“That worked so well with Snape,” Ron said.

“She’s not Snape! She’s still young and she still has a chance. We’ll hear no more about it. What she needs to know is that she’s safe, that _we’re_ safe and that we will help if she should ever need it. Just be a little nicer, understand?” Molly said.

Later that same morning, Valeria was getting ready for another day of avoiding the wedding chaos taking place at nearly all hours of the day at the Burrow. She was preparing herself for her daily routine, nearly finished, when there was a knock at her door. Opening it reluctantly, she found Ron standing a polite distance away.

“Can I do something for you?” she asked, surprised to see him there.

“I—uh…I just wanted to say that I forgive you for what happened. The business with the poisoning,” Ron said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m just saying that I get that it wasn’t entirely your fault and I’m…I’m not holding it against you,” he replied. Valeria was both unprepared and not in the mood for Ron’s offer. She had replayed everything that had happened in her mind daily, whether she wanted to or not, and she failed to see what she could have done, or would have been willing to do, differently.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t see why I require your forgiveness,” she said. Ron just raised an eyebrow, quite taken aback. “I never intended to poison you. I was not the one who put it in the wine or hatched the plot to use it in the first place. I only brewed it and it was only afterwards that I found out any of it had been taken.”

“But you brewed _poison_ at school…” Ron argued.

“Is that so bad? Any worse than secret polyjuice potions? Secret organizations? Breaking into the Ministry of Magic? Using dark magic to nearly kill someone in a bathroom? Breaking any number of school rules over the course of six years? That potion was for my purposes only and I dumped it when I was finished,” Valeria said.

“I think those cases were a bit different,” Ron said.

“Why? Because it was _you_ and your lot doing it? And who’s really to blame? Me? The one who poisoned the wine? Draco for the scheme or the one who forced his hand? You can blame me and forgive me all you want, but I won’t apologize,” Valeria said. Ron looked down, not really knowing what to say. “Sometimes blame isn’t clear and easy, Weasley.”

“I guess,” Ron said, insincerely. He turned to leave but stopped himself. “I liked him, y’know, your brother. I didn’t know him, but I liked him when I met him.” Valeria was suddenly reminded of running into the Weasley cohort at the World Cup just before fourth year. Ron had fawned over Konstantin, having heard all about the latter’s prowess on the pitch from one of his own older brothers.

“It seems I didn’t know him either,” Valeria said with a shrug. He left the room and she shut the door behind him without another word. The sheer amount of traffic in and out of the Burrow had been straining her patience and even the longer walks she was taking on the property did little to soothe her. She came back into the house in the early evening for dinner when Fleur herself asked to pull her aside to one small secluded corner.

“What can I do for you?” Valeria asked, praying she wasn’t being enlisted to help with seating charts or decorations or some other droll nonsense.

“I wanted to ask you eef you would please come to ze wedding,” Fleur said with a big, kind smile. Valeria was shocked, having been looking forward to the house being empty for an evening. The offer, though seemingly genuine, made Valeria immediately suspicious; This being the second unsolicited offer of peacemaking that day.

“That’s really very nice of you, I just don’t think that would be…appropriate,” Valeria said.

“No, no! You must come. Eet will be fun and you have a right zu be there,” Fleur insisted. Valeria considered. Not attending would certainly look bad on her and perhaps it would help prove to the others that she wasn’t some secret Death Eater waiting for an opportune moment to destroy their lives.

“I’ll think about it,” Valeria said tentatively. The answer satisfied Fleur enough to allow Valeria to retreat to the dinner table and after finishing her meal, Valeria was looking forward to an evening of peace. She had been carefully sorting through the things she had collected from her family home when there was yet another knock at the door. She called for the disturber to enter, trying to mask her exacerbation. To Valeria’s surprise, Ginny entered.

“They want to talk to you downstairs,” Ginny said. Valeria didn’t move.

“Can I ask as to why?” Valeria asked.

Ginny shrugged. “Didn’t say much. They just asked me to come get you.”

Valeria resigned and told Ginny she would be down in a minute. What could they possibly want? Had she broken a rule? Was there terrible news about her mother or her friends? She descended the stairs, gripped by anxiety and slowly entered the dining to find several unexpected familiar faces; Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Fleur, the entire Weasley clan and a somber looking Hermione Granger, amongst others. Valeria stopped in her tracks and Molly stood to rush to her.

“Have a seat, have a seat,” Molly said in an assuring tone, ushering Valeria to an empty chair. All eyes were on Valeria, at least that’s how she felt.

“Has something happened? Is it my mother?” Valeria asked, unable to take the suspense further.

“No, no, no,” Molly began. “Nothing’s happened, we just want to ask you some things, is that alright?”

“I suppose,” Valeria said, still wary but not seeing another choice.

“Are we sure this is safe?” one of the Weasley twins, Valeria never bothered learning to tell them apart, asked.

“George,” Arthur scolded.

“It’s a fair question though, isn’t it? With…all that happened last year…” The other twin, Fred, said, trying to sound delicate. Valeria, despite her aggravation at being kept in the dark at present, took his meaning.

“How would it even be possible for me to reveal…whatever this is to anyone even if I wanted to?” Valeria asked.

“My thoughts exactly,” Moody said. “Enough of that, let’s get to work. Winters, on the 27th, we’re going to be undertaking a mission to retrieve Harry Potter and bring him here. He is currently protected, but those protections will expire on the 31st, his seventeenth birthday. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Valeria said.

“This is potentially dangerous and there may be injuries. I hear you’re rather skilled at potions, is that right?” Moody continued. Valeria nodded in response. “Would you be able to make some medicinal potions in case we need ‘em?”

Valeria was rather floored. “I’m no healer.”

“But you _can_ craft them, can't ye?” Moody insisted. Valeria thought, she knew of a few that could be quickly brewed.

“I can. I’d need my supplies back,” she said with a little bitterness in her words.

“Those will be returned to you at once,” Arthur said.

“I’ll need a few other ingredients too,” Valeria said, remembering her low stock.

“Give me a list and I can get them for you,” Bill Weasley said beside a smiling Fleur. Valeria nodded to him in acknowledgement.

“I’ll start as soon as I can then,” she said.

“There’s one other thing,” Moody started. “If we were to be ambushed, I wanted your opinion on who of You-Know-Who’s followers we might have to worry about.”

Valeria was taken aback once again. “I doubt that I have any knowledge that you don’t already have or suspect.”

“Probably,” Lupin interjected. “But you grew up with these people, you know them better than all of us, in a way.”

Valeria thought on it. She had never been privy to inner-circle knowledge, not in any real way at least and she hadn’t the faintest idea as to where the hierarchy would stand now.

“Draco wouldn’t be there, I know almost for certain,” she began. “You-Know-Who only used him, never had any real faith in him. I doubt Mrs. Malfoy would ever allow it to happen, even if Draco wanted to do it. Mr. Malfoy on the other hand, would most definitely be there. He wouldn’t dare disobey and will probably do anything to get into You-Know-Who’s favor.”

“Good. Who else?” Tonks said.

“The Lestranges, all of them, will be begging to go. Even my parents seemed to have distaste for their over-eagerness. Snape has probably taken Mr. Malfoy’s place as You-Know-Who’s right-hand man, so you could expect to see him. Uh…Yaxley! Yaxley most definitely. He and my father were close. The Carrows, maybe? Crabbe and Goyle, their fathers I mean, are pieces of work to say the least and are definitely opportunists; The kind who will do anything to move higher in rank. As to who else, I’m not sure. This is all guessing at the very best,” Valeria said.

“That’s helpful, Winters, thank you. You can be dismissed and Arthur will get your supplies so you can get to work as soon as possible,” Moody said. Valeria took the cue to leave thankfully, feeling uneasy about the entire thing and honestly not wanting to know more about their plans than she had to. She stood to go, but Tonks called after her, also standing.

“Wait, can I talk to you privately for a moment?” Tonks said. Valeria agreed and Tonks followed her upstairs to her little room.

“What is it now?” Valeria asked, increasingly suspicious and aggravated by the requests and questions she had been receiving.

“I got in touch with Jane Masters. She’s going into hiding, but she asked me to pass this on to you,” Tonks said, pulling a folded parchment from an inside pocket and handing it to Valeria.

“Why would she want to talk to _me_?” Valeria asked. Tonks shrugged.

“Give it a read and she might tell you,” Tonks said, leaving the little room without another word. Valeria rubbed her thumbs along the folded parchment, incredibly nervous. Perhaps inside was a condemnation of her beloved brother; A list of all his crimes and how horrible he truly was. It was just a letter from a schooldays girlfriend from, what felt like, so long ago, but because she was so desperate for answers, the unknown contents already weighed heavily on Valeria’s heart. She sat on her bed and carefully unfolded the letter.

First fell out yet another photograph of Konstantin. There he was again, throwing a snowball in the direction of the photographer somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds. Playful, silly, uncharacteristically inelegant, he was grinning from ear to ear, laughing. Valeria, unable to look at it more, set it gently aside and she turned her attention to the many words on the paper.

_Dear Valeria,_

_I hope this letter finds you as well as can be expected in these difficult times. It seems appropriate that I first offer my condolences for your heavy losses. From what I’ve read and heard, you have been through a great deal in a tragically short amount of time. My name is Jane Masters. Tonks contacted me regarding your brother and I wanted to share with you some things that I hope might clarify the confusion you have around his character and his short life._

_I remember the first time I saw him. I had already been sorted into Ravenclaw, nervous and overwhelmed by this new world I had suddenly been thrown into. Even at eleven years old, and the last student to be sorted, he walked with confidence and grace that I wished I had. His smirk after being sorted into Slytherin sealed the deal for me and I had the stupidest schoolgirl crush on him from then on._

_I will admit that I was naïve. I was too mesmerized by this new, foreign world that was full of things my muggle upbringing could never compare to, to do my diligence in understanding the intricacies and histories of the wizarding world in total depth. It was in part for that reason that I liked Konstantin so much, but he was so easy to like. Over those years, he only grew taller, more handsome, more charming, more articulate and intelligent. When he spoke, everyone listened. Above all, he was so different from the rest of his cohort. He looked others properly in the eye, and seemed to genuinely express kindness and friendliness to those his Slytherin peers would merely sneer at. This became a cornerstone of his reputation; The “good Slytherin.”_

_He was most at home on the pitch. I wish you could have seen him play. He would have been in the air forever if he could, I have no doubt. He flew like an eagle and strategized like a general. I know how silly that sounds, but it’s the truth. I used to joke with him that he’d rather date his broom than me. Even after all that happened, I still designed every broom I ever worked on with him in mind. I was hopelessly head over heels the second he spoke to me after a match. My friends, the few who knew about my feelings, tried to dissuade me. They tried to explain to me who your family was and what they allegedly did, but nothing could turn me away._

_Though in the end it was he that pursued me. He would make excuses to be my partner in class projects; That I was good at whatever subject and it would be easier for him to get a good mark. In private, he was gentle, almost nervous, which surprised me and it wasn’t long before we were inseparable, at least when we could find time alone. It was then that I began to notice the oddities. I invited him to meet my family over the holidays, but he always had a reason to avoid it, saying that your parents were very strict about family time. I asked to meet them and he refused, with some vague excuse. He never spoke much about your parents and would change the subject if it it was raised, but he did talk about you. He showed me your letters asking him to send him notes on his studies so you could have a head start at Hogwarts. He told me how you never took to flying, no matter how hard he tried, but that you would always give it a chance if he asked. He adored you._

_He said being secretive was more exciting, and for a time, it was. He would leave me little presents and notes around the castle, and send me on little scavenger hunts to find them. Running off alone together during breaks, after classes, Hogsmeade, or whenever, remain some of my favorite school memories. He would talk about running off together after we finished school, to some far-off land and joining professional Quidditch teams together. At the time, it sounded like a romantic fantasy, but I now believe he meant it. Every professional tryout he got was for a foreign based team and he barely gave the time of day to local inquiries._

_After we were caught, and he took a weekend back home, he was a different person. A detention under those circumstances, for lack of a better term, was a bit embarrassing but not world ending. I could name a hundred other students that received detentions for the same reason. But Konstantin, was beside himself. I had never seen him unnerved, let alone in a state of complete distress. And when he returned from home, he swiftly ended it with me, barely looking me in the eye and when I demanded he say it to my face, he looked as though he was about to cry._

_It was clear that he did not want to end it, and he never said a word to me again. Even though I tried, seeing what became of him after. He had a bittersweet smile on his face when he sinched the win for his final Quidditch championship at Hogwarts. I was shocked beyond measure when I heard he was off to work for the Ministry. I eventually pieced together why he ended it with me; My muggleborn status. I admit that for quite a while I was angry with him. He strung me along all that time, while also being so ashamed of who I was. I took him for a spineless coward, unable to make his own choices and defy his own status for doing what he wanted. Even then though, no matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to hate him. He broke my heart, but it also broke for him._

_While it was perhaps an immature schoolyard relationship, I count it as the most profound relationship of my life up to date. I was prepared, perhaps naively, to go the distance with Konstantin, no matter how difficult the path would have been. When he died last year, I was devastated. I think a part of me held out hope that he would show up in my life again, realizing his mistakes. Logically, I always knew it was not true, but I could never help myself. I was revolted when I learned he was one of them, but confused to the core. The boy he was, silly and exuberant in private, kind, thoughtful, dedicated, and the gentlest man I’ve ever met was not the person who had the stomach for such things._

_I say all this, my apologies for the lengthy rambling, not pretending to know you or your feelings. I write all this because I can only imagine how you are hurting and the difficult position you find yourself in, and I want you to know who Konstantin was. I, of course, do not know details, but I am certain that he did not follow this path entirely willingly. Tonks told me that he was not there fighting for You-Know-Who, but that he died fighting for you. That tells me everything I need to know._

_Your brother was not a monster. Despite it all, I firmly believe that. I am certain he would not want this for you, nor would he want you to follow in his footsteps. I want to empower you to remember him how I do. For that, I have included a photograph I took of him years ago that I want you to have, as I’ve held onto it for probably far too long. Tonks told me about the picture in your possession and your offer that I have it, but I’d like you to keep that as well. Perhaps when this is over and it’s safe, we can meet. With your permission, I’d someday like to visit his resting place and say my final farewell._

_I loved Konstantin and I am of the mind that he returned those feelings. I also know he loved you fiercely and I encourage you to remember that for all of time. Let that love carry you through the harder things ahead._

_With a Heavy Heart,_

_Jane Masters_

Valeria could not help but look once more upon the photograph Jane had accompanied with the letter and weep. That smiling, laughing kid with the entire world at his feet. He had everything any young man, or anyone really, could have ever wanted. He _was_ happy. He wanted something more. And she began to feel hate, true hate, for those that took it all away from him until they took his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that long letter. I felt it was important in terms of what's coming up after this and the fact that the protagonist has not really confronted what happened with her family. I'm sorry this is starting slow, but I promise there will be more action in the next chapter or two.


	5. A Mother's Plea

_"Was any of it real for you?" she asked him._

_"All of it."_

_*****_

Valeria was hard at work over the next few days preparing the potions she had been recruited to brew. Bill had been prompt with acquiring the other ingredients she needed and she had to admit the relief she felt at having her potions supplies returned to her. The various healing solutions she was crafting were far less interesting to work with than more advanced or mysterious material, but she was not about to raise such a complaint in her position. It was nice to have her own space outside of her little hovel of a room and it had the added benefit of the constant comings and goings of both Order members and wedding partakers leaving her alone for the most part. It gave her a secure time and place to think while she worked, and she certainly had been preoccupied by uneasy thoughts after reading and rereading Jane Masters’s letter.

“Hi Valeria,” Hermione said shyly behind Valeria, startling her a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s fine,” Valeria said, looking back at her work. Despite the recent rise of conflicting feelings in her heart, Potter, and his friends by extension, were still targets for her anger and she was in no way eager to be on friendly terms with any of them. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just curious about what you’re making,” Hermione said, taking another step closer. Valeria stood to the side with a sigh to give Hermione a better view. Valeria had been working with three cauldrons, two of them hers and one shoddy old one donated to the cause by Ron, who seemed more than happy to be rid of it.

“They’re pretty basic. This one is a wound-cleaning potion. That’s a blood-replenishing potion, a little more difficult. The third is going to be a salve I’m deriving from murtlap essence, if I can get it right,” Valeria explained. Hermione looked over the various brews as Valeria explained them.

“These are really good. You’re brilliant at this,” Hermione said genuinely. Valeria nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’m sure you could easily do the same,” Valeria said. Hermione shrugged.

“Maybe. That blood-replenishing potion is quite advanced and would take me a fair amount of time to study it before I’d attempt it. Will there be some leftover?”

“I think they’re hoping they won’t be needed at all,” Valeria began. “But I purposely made as much as I could with the ingredients I could get, so barring any disasters, there should be. Why?”

“No reason,” Hermione said, though Valeria could easily hear the cloaked deception in her voice. “They just seem like good things to have around at a time like this.”

“I’m surprised the medicines are so poorly stocked if they’re planning for war,” Valeria agreed with a little disdain in her tone that Hermione seemed to ignore.

“Then maybe it’s a good thing that you’re around,” Hermione said. Valeria politely did not further the conversation. Having been alone with her thoughts for a time, she started to piece together why the people who regarded her with suspicion at best just a little while ago were starting to make gestures and slowly include her on their doings. Jane’s letter and Tonks’s nearly relentless focus on Konstantin especially had made the matter almost too clear. For reasons Valeria did not know, nor particularly cared to discover, they were trying to convert her to their side.

Perhaps it was because having a former Death Eater ally, no matter her level of complicity, on their side would be a major asset in terms of gathering information. Maybe it would be to signal to doubters on the other side that the Order would accept and assist them if they renounced the Dark Lord. It might have even been as simple as the Order needing all the help it could get. Valeria did not care. She could not imagine a world where she would join their ranks, fight for their cause.

She was suspicious of their cause. She did not possess the hatred of her fellows for muggleborns, but she absolutely did not think muggles should be let in on the secret of the wizarding world. It was preposterous. She had heard the stories of their bombs that even the highest magic could be defenseless against and knew the histories of what muggles around the world had done to their own in the past in order to rid the world of magic. It was vile and she had no interest in supporting a cause that remotely came close to allowing muggles to know the truth, en masse, even in regard to parents of muggleborn children or spouses of witches and wizards.

The truth she could never tell these people, what none of them would ever understand, was that the pureblood world was _her_ world. They were her family and her friends. She missed them, her old worry-free life of status and power. If she were to join them, she’d be branded a blood traitor and forever be rejected, if not outright targeted, by the people she cared for still. She had far more to lose joining the Order than she did otherwise.

And still, there was the matter of Draco Malfoy. He was the one who had, up to the end, nearly lost everything to protect her. Her life had been under threat for nearly an entire year and the Order either did notice or did nothing. Their oversight had allowed her and Draco to do exactly what they did. Her promise to Draco still mattered to her and she would not join any opposing side.

The various solutions were finished just in time. As July 27th arrived, the Burrow was in a state of anxiety. As evening approached, several of the inhabitants prepared to depart and left Ginny and her mother with Valeria. Molly had asked that Valeria remain downstairs, ready to administer potions at any moment, which Valeria reluctantly obliged to do. After the others left, Molly could not bring herself to stand still and filled her time running about her house, trying to distract herself form her darkest fears, at least that’s what Valeria guessed. This, of course, meant that Valeria was sat in the living area with Ginny.

Ginny was for once, and for good reason, not too concerned with Valeria’s presence. For once, the Weasley girl wasn’t wasting her energy glaring at Valeria or waiting for an opportune moment to mumble another insult under her breath. Valeria looked at Ginny every so often in the uncomfortable silence. Rather than her characteristic scowl, Ginny was pale with fear and the look of dread in her eyes was something that Valeria knew well, having seen the same each day in the mirror for over a year.

“I know how it feels,” Valeria said, making Ginny nearly jump in the sudden breaking of silence.

“What?” Ginny asked, trying to sound snide, but failing.

“When everyone you care about is out there, in danger…at the hands of _them_ ,” Valeria said.

“Even your whole family?” Ginny asked. Valeria gave Ginny a knowing look, and Ginny shook her head. “Right. Sorry.”

“I’m only trying to say that I understand how you feel,” Valeria said. Ginny was quiet for a moment, playing with her bottom lip between her teeth.

“How did you deal with it?” Ginny asked quietly, almost nervously.

“I don’t know,” Valeria said with a little exacerbated laugh. “Kept it to myself mostly. Can’t say I’d recommend it, but I didn’t have much of a choice.” She paused again. “I did what I could to help and I don't regret all of it.”

“Even with how it ended up?” Ginny asked.

“Would you apologize for doing everything you could to keep any one of them alive?” Valeria asked.

“No,” Ginny replied.

“Then neither will I,” Valeria said. That seemed to settle the matter, but Ginny did not appear entirely satisfied as they sat in wait for the entirety of the evening. After a painfully long while, a blue light from out back filled the room along with a loud banging noise, and both Weasleys ran to the door. Valeria stood with her wand drawn, heart thumping and went to her potions stock, ready to administer help, if needed. After a couple minutes, Mrs. Weasley came back inside, nearly in tears, and went for the liquour cabinet.

“Hagrid and Harry are here. No sign of anyone else yet,” she said through her tears. That was not according to schedule, Valeria knew, but without any words of comfort, she simply nodded in acknowledgment before Mrs. Weasley walked outside. Another few minutes passed and the door burst open with Lupin and Potter carrying one of the Weasley twins in panic over to the living room and onto the sofa, Mrs. Weasley rushing behind them.

“Valeria!” Lupin called out. Without hesitation, Valeria grabbed three vials and darted into the other room. Lupin dragged Potter away as Mrs. Weasley bent over her unconscious son. Valeria saw blood all over the young man’s face and an ear missing and she knew enough to realize it was the doing of dark magic. She swallowed, remembering Draco lying bloodied and dying in the Hogwarts bathroom, but snapped the image out of her mind.

“Open his mouth, Mrs. Weasley,” Valeria ordered. Molly obeyed, tearfully taking her son’s jaw and holding his open mouth gently. Valeria poured a small amount of the blood-replenishing potion slowly into his mouth as Mrs. Weasley helped him swallow the substance. Next, Valeria opened the salve she made to help disinfect and heal wounds. It was a bit sloppy, her hands were covered in blood, but she managed to apply it to the wound effectively. Meanwhile, others were coming in and nearly yelling at each other in the chaos.

“But somebody betrayed us! They knew, they knew it was tonight!” Shacklebolt said from the other room, Valeria looked up to see several eyes on her.

“You cannot possibly think—”

“Valeria has been here the entire time,” Molly defended.

“And I haven’t sent a letter since I left Hogwarts,” Valeria said, pushing her hair out of her face, her sleeve falling down her arm slightly. “There’s no way I could reach anyone with information and no one told me the entire plan.”

“What’s that on your arm?” Lupin said, the tone in his voice sending shivers down her spine and she looked at her wrist. She had worn the ward Draco gave religiously, so long that she had forgotten she had it on. Lupin approached and grabbed Valeria’s arm, inspecting the coiled snake bracelet and as he did, she felt it tremor slightly around her wrist; a warning of danger.

“It’s a ward. All it does is lessen the effects of lighter curses and it tremors when it senses danger. Now, let me go,” Valeria explained, glowering at Lupin.

“Where did you get something like this?” Lupin said nearly frantically, ignoring her request.

“It was a gift,” she said darkly. “Let me g—!”

“From who?!” he yelled.

“Draco Malfoy,” she spat. Lupin’s eyes widened.

“I’m going to have to take that from you,” Lupin said. Valeria yanked her arm out of his grasp and stepped back.

“Absolutely not!” she shouted.

“There could be a trace on it! There could be dark magic. We cannot risk—” Lupin began.

“You’re mad! Draco would not enchant it with dark magic and give it to me as a Christmas gift! He had a thousand opportunities to hurt me and he _never_ did!” she yelled.

“We just need to be sure, Valeria. I will return it to you once we’re sure—”

“Or you can just believe me! Draco risked his life all last year to keep me away from _them_! He wouldn’t do this.”

“It might not have been him. We don’t know who made it or how. You-Know-Who manipulated him once for his plans, there’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t use you against Draco again!” Lupin said.

Valeria clutched her arm close to her chest. “I will not let you take it.”

“Then we’ll have to send you away,” Lupin said.

“That is not an option, Remus!” Molly said.

“We can’t afford the risk!” Lupin said.

“And so you’d rather send me off, knowing everything that I know?” Valeria said darkly.

“This is the more immediate concern. I don’t want it to be this way either,” Lupin said, trying to sound calm in an attempt to negogiate. Valeria swallowed, nearly trembling.

“This…this is the only thing I have left…” she said.

“We’ve all had to make sacrifices, Valeria,” Lupin replied.

“Your choices have been easy,” Valeria hissed. “I have given up my family, my home, my good name, my friends, my way of life—everything! I have been nothing short of cooperate in all of this and I have done everything you asked of me, but it will never be enough for you people, will it? Do you know what they probably think of me? My father and my brother failed their mission and my mother has been under their watch and I never pledged any sort of loyalty to You-Know-Who, which makes _me_ a traitor. That makes me worse than the rest of you in his eyes! Do you have any damned clue as to what that would mean if you send me off?!”

Lupin was silent, not relenting his position, nor acknowledging her words. She was trapped, pure and simple. She wrenched the tight ward from her wrist and threw it with a clang at Lupin’s feet.

“It’s either this or a death sentence. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Valeria spat, marching off to the stairs and she gestured to the vials of potions sitting on a table. “You can administer those your damn selves.” She went up to her room and slammed the door behind her, feeling her now naked wrist as she slid down to the floor with her back against the door. With her forehead on her knees she wept again, feeling more backed into a corner than ever and remembered the night Draco gave it to her; One of the only fond memories she had of the previous school year.

She recalled his gentle hands, skin warmed by the nearby fire, working to put it on her wrist and how it once felt to be touched with care. How, just for a little while, he was tender and selfless even while being crushed by the weight of the world. The relief that filled her up in those simple moments alone. She hated them, the ones just downstairs, for doing all they could to take the last remnants of those feelings from her. She could hear them, talking, rushing, bustling around in confusion and grief, but she couldn’t care. She wanted them to be afraid, to be just as alone and miserable as she was.

Valeria did not descend the stairs for breakfast or lunch the next day and it wasn’t until dinner that she heard a soft knock on her door. She called, annoyed, for them to enter and in came Mrs. Weasley with a tray of food and the paper followed by Mr. Weasley. Arthur shut the door behind them as Molly set the food on the little desk beside the window.

“Thanks,” Valeria mumbled, looking away from them. She refused to break bread with them now and though determined, the scent of the food was beginning to overcome her resolve.

“We wanted to thank you for what you did for George. There’s no doubt you helped speed up the healing process,” Molly said kindly.

“I was only doing what I was told,” Valeria said.

“Valeria, I’ve made Remus promise to return the ward to you and he says he is working on it. I’m sure he’ll be done soon,” Arthur said.

“Right,” Valeria replied noncommittally.

“There’s something else. We know you’ve been avoiding the paper, but your mother—”

Valeria jumped to her feet suddenly. “Is she alright?!”

“She’s fine, as far as we know. She’s put something in the paper that you should read on page ten,” Molly said. Valeria grabbed the paper and furiously opened it to the correct page.

_A Mother’s Desperate Plea_

_By Odessa Winters_

_For over a year, I have found myself in the position that every mother most fears. Last year, I lost my eldest child, my beloved Konstantin, at the hands of rogue aurors and agitators along with my dear husband. This very same night, my daughter and last remaining child, Valeria, went missing and was later kidnapped by people who were cruel enough to never even send me a message as to her well-being._

_I have not seen, spoken to nor heard a word from my daughter since then._

_I have done my best to protect her from afar, but I can only do so much while my good name has been slandered. A noble young man she has been seeing did his absolute best to keep her safe at school, but he could only do so much with these forces working against him._

_I can only pray that this message reaches those who have taken her from me and her home. Please, I beg of you, let her free. Valeria is a gift to my life, our family and the wizarding world. She is a beautiful, resourceful, gentle, and fiercely intelligent young woman who possesses a loyalty to those she loves unseen in most people, even those many years her senior. She does not deserve to be captive and victimized as a result of political coups and uprisings. After all she has suffered, she deserves peace and stability. She deserves the family she still has left._

_And Valeria, if by some miracle you are reading my words, I promise to spend my days making up for the ways in which I have failed you. I want you to be strong and remember all we spent our lives teaching you. I need you to fight, darling. Fight for your brother and father, for your family and loved ones, for yourself. We all desperately miss the light you bring to all of our lives and are hurting with you. Remember, always, Quocumque Modo._

Valeria looked up at the Weasleys in a state of shock. Just a little while ago the papers were slandering her and the Winters name and now they allowed this to be printed. And the ‘noble young man,’ could only be referring to Draco, a realization that struck fear into her heart. Perhaps they thought it would sell more papers, but something pricked at Valeria’s thoughts and she could not help but to be suspicious.

“What does this mean?” Valeria asked.

“The papers have slowly been moving to be more lenient and supportive of You-Know-Who,” Molly said. “While I can sympathize with the feelings your mother is writing, we suspect that this is likely not simply what it seems.”

“What are you talking about?” Valeria said.

“Valeria, you were brought here, and we agreed to take you in, partly because everyone agreed that there was a high chance you would be used and manipulated again for You-Know-Who’s ends,” Arthur explained. “We think that this is likely that; An effort to turn public support away from our side by framing us as kidnappers who are holding you hostage and gain sympathy for their cause.”

“Are you not holding me hostage?” Valeria asked. Arthur shifted on his feet.

“That’s a bit unfair. You know there’s more to it than that. You said it yourself,” Arthur replied.

“We know that it must be very difficult to read those words, but you have to remember that they might not be completely your mother’s own, no matter how real her feelings are. That’s all we’re saying,” Molly said. Valeria was overwhelmed once more and unable to bear this conversation any longer.

“Can I be alone now, please?” Valeria requested. The Weasleys nodded.

“Of course. Can I ask, what the last phrase your mother wrote means?” Arthur said.

“It’s a sort of bastardized Latin and it’s the family motto,” Valeria said. “It means, ‘By any means necessary’.”


	6. Blood Traitor

_"How could you have been so stupid?" he sneered._

_"It was more than you've ever done," she snapped back._

_*****_

Tension followed Valeria wherever she went in the Weasley home and so she concluded that she was best off returning to her former routine of spending almost all her time in her room. Despite the deaths and fears of late, the inhabitants of the Burrow were keeping themselves busy with the upcoming wedding, which Valeria decided not to attend, though she had yet to inform Fleur of her choice.

 _“One more month,”_ she thought to herself. Just one more month and this would over, though the uncertainty of what the future held made her more ill at ease than her present circumstances. She took advantage of a momentary pause in activity downstairs to grab leftovers from lunch, which Mrs. Weasley had taken to setting aside for her, and spent the rest of the eve of Fleur and Bill’s wedding shut away in her room.

The hours passed and Valeria was stirred from her thoughts when Ginny knocked on her door.

“What is it?” Valeria asked.

“We’re having a little party for Harry’s birthday out back, if you want to, uh, join in,” Ginny said. For once Ginny seemed to have some sympathy for her. Valeria had forgotten entirely about Potter’s seventeenth birthday, and managed to dismiss all the chaos downstairs as business as usual.

“I think I’ll sit this one out. Thanks though,” Valeria said. The last thing she wanted to do was attend Potter’s birthday party.

“Well, if you change your mind…” Ginny said awkwardly.

“Yeah, thanks,” Valeria said, closing the door again. She could guess that everyone she least wanted to see would be at this party, and she did not know if she could avoid a state of rage if she saw Lupin’s face. It was for the best, really, and she was happy to have some quiet to herself as the house was empty.

It was a short-lived peace when Ginny once again knocked on her door. Valeria rolled her eyes before opening it, figuring the Weasley girl was there to deliver a crudely cut slice of birthday cake, but she found Ginny looking at her confused and nervous.

“The Minister of Magic is here and he wants to talk to you downstairs,” she said. Valeria’s heart dropped. There could be no good news the Minister thought important enough to deliver himself.

“Pardon?”

“Mum only told me to fetch you, I don't know what he wants. He’s waiting at the kitchen table,” Ginny said.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Valeria said absent-mindedly, shutting the door again. She quickly examined her appearance in the mirror and straightened out her robes, steeling herself against what she dreaded to be dark news. Her mind whirled with possibilities as she descended the stairs. She was certain her mother was dead, or that they changed their mind and would be arresting her then and there. Scrimgeour’s expression did nothing to alleviate her fears, the stern man turning to her as she came into the kitchen.

“Miss Winters,” he greeted. “How has your stay been?”

“I’ve managed,” Valeria said flatly. “What can I do for you, sir?”

The Minister directed her to have a seat and placed the envelopes he was holding onto the table, sitting opposite her.

“I am here to speak with Mr. Potter, but as a matter concerning you has been resolved, I thought I would save myself a second trip,” Scrimgeour began. He took a few pages of parchment from the envelope and placed them before Valeria. “I am here to carry out the last will and testament of your father and brother.”

“Now?” Valeria asked confused.

“Because of the severity of their crimes, the Ministry held them until a full investigation could be completed, which as you can imagine, took longer than expected,” he said. He gestured to the pages on the table. “This document concerns financial matters. Your father left your portion of the Winters’s inheritance to you and those funds have been added to your vault at Gringotts. Ownership of the Winters Estate, its assets and property, is currently with your mother and Konstantin was made heir to it. However, your father stipulated that in the event of Odessa’s and Konstantin’s deaths or relinquishment of the estate, the position of heir falls to you.” He flipped the pages to the last one, bearing three signature lines and pulled a small ink bottle and quill from his bag. “Once you sign, the funds will be released to you and you acknowledge and accept the position as your father’s eventual heir.”

Valeria examined the document and found the first line already filled with her father’s large handwriting. Delicately, she complied and signed her name on the correct line: _Valeria Terpsichore Winters_. Without a word, Scrimgeour pulled the papers to his side of the table and signed on the Ministry official line before setting the papers aside. He pulled a second set of documents from the envelope.

“This is your brother’s will. He stipulated that in the event of his death, his half of the Winters’s inheritance will fall to you. Of his saved earnings while working at the Ministry, he gives those to one Jane Masters. Do you know anything about that?”

Valeria shook her head. “I haven’t a clue,” she lied through her teeth. Scrimgeour did not seem to notice or care.

“We have been unable to locate Miss Masters, unfortunately,” he said, flipping pages to the signature lines. “By signing, you acknowledge and accept this while also promising to do everything in your power to execute his will in the matter of Jane Masters.” Valeria nodded and signed her name below her brother’s. Scrimgeour signed on his own line and pushed the documents aside. He tapped his wand on both her brother’s and father’s wills, magicking a copy of each, which he slid back to Valeria.

“We will keep the originals on file. Before I go, there is one last thing, which halted the process of executing these wills most,” he said pulling a smaller, letter sized, envelope and passing it to her with her name on the front. She turned over the envelope to find the seal had been broken already.

“You’ve read this?” Valeria asked.

“Considering Konstantin’s crimes, it was a necessity,” Scrimgeour said, sounding frustrated. "It’s apparently a letter from him meant for your eyes only. We thought it was just an unfinished letter, but found a powerful enchantment on it, concealing every ink-stroke. We could not break the enchantment. I trust that if there were any information, any plot or plan described there that you will do your duty and report it immediately, as part of the conditions of your being allowed to shelter here.”

“Of course,” Valeria said, captivated by the envelope.

“If you’d excuse me, I have to speak with Potter and the others,” he said. Valeria took his words as her cue to leave, and she marched back upstairs with the documents and letter in hand. She sat on her bed and opened the letter with anxious hands. It was blank at first, but before long, words began to slowly appear on the page, as if written by an invisible hand. Scirmgeour had been right; Konstantin had cast a powerful enchantment on the letter. How or which one, Valeria could not guess, but it must have been extraordinarily complex if the Ministry could not crack it.

_Valeria,_

_It is my deepest hope that this letter never needs to reach you. However, in the event that you are reading these words, my hopes were for naught and I am dead. Should that be the case, I can only pray that this reaches you before any more harm should befall you. I am penning this directly following Harry Potter’s interview published in_ TheQuibbler _magazine. Despite our family’s claims to you at present, you now know the truth. I am not so bold as to expect your understanding, let alone your forgiveness, but I do owe you answers._

_The truth has been kept from you at my insistence. I’m sure mother or father will give you their own explanations, but it was I who most wanted to shield you from it. You grew up in our world, you know our ways, our traditions, but from the time you were young I wanted your inquisitive and ambitious spirit to remain uncorrupted. I could always see that your heart would not be in this; The searing hatred required to fulfill such ambitions was not in you. I perhaps naively believed that closing you out of my path would force you to tread another. I never wanted this to be your fight; I do not want you to fall into the same trap that I did._

_I wanted to play Quidditch. Like you, I had an interest in the higher mysteries, but really sport was my true calling. I was also foolish in that I was involved with a muggleborn girl in my school years. Despite my reservations and despite how greatly I knowingly hurt her, I cared for her beyond what I am capable of expressing and, to my shame, still do. It is only in knowing now how events would turn that I realized the degree of danger I put her in. And when mother and father found out about her and me, along with my ambition to pursue a Quidditch career, I’m sure you can imagine how the conversation went. In truth, even when I was with her and scheduling tryouts for professional teams, I knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before I’d need to give it all up. But at the time, it was too painful to make that choice myself._

_I relented, agreed to follow in father’s steps. A blood traitor in the family was something our parents believed they could never recover from and so father shoved me forward and threw me into the fire, so to speak. I did it because I was a coward, afraid of losing everything I had ever known, but also because I knew that if I refused, the responsibility would be placed onto you, which I could not abide. It was not long before I officially fell into the ranks and the legacy of the Winters family was fully thrust upon my shoulders. I will spare you the details of my doings and crimes, though know they were many, but I do not want to claim innocence. The least you deserve is the truth. I enjoyed it. The dark arts are seductive by nature, and the power and prestige they provided in part seduced me too. But make no mistake, Valeria, it is a trap. The Dark Lord does not share power, rather doling it out in pieces according to his whims. We are all pawns, but it is far too late for me and there are only two ways this can end for me._

_The best, really all, I can do now is use this to try and do some good for your sake. I have obviously failed, since you are reading this. But I will impart some final words for you to avoid my failures. Be wise in your friends, Valeria. There are people that will help you, you only need ask. This was one of my many mistakes. I know too that you are fond of Draco Malfoy. I have no personal qualm with the boy, but I have seen his father’s dealings and witnessed his cruelty, and Draco’s eagerness worries me. Do not trust him. Secondly, you must tread carefully and look out exclusively for your own survival. Trust your instincts and reveal nothing. Finally, do whatever you must to do to keep yourself safe, even if that necessitates doing things you don’t want to do._

_My only prayer, if this reaches you, is that I can help you more in death than I did in life. You will never know how regretful I am. I will be there for you forever under the lilac tree._

_I love you._

_Your Brother Ever,_

_Konstantin Silvester Winters_

Valeria could not bear it.

It made some semblance of sense. If Konstantin was a faithful Death Eater, then his feelings for Jane made no sense. But she could so clearly and easily imagine what their father must have said to Konstantin, how their parents forced his hand, and how he would have seen no other alternative. She wept once again, a familiar occurrence. Remembering her mother’s plea, it was now so clear that her words were poisoned, as the Weasleys said.

Her heart burned for her brother. He gave up everything to please the family only to have his life ended too soon and too abruptly. She paced around her room for a while, rereading the letter and taking in each and every mark penned on the page. There was a choice to be made and the only person she could trust enough now to heed their words was her late brother. The time had to be now. If it was not now, she knew she never would.

Taking the letter in hand, she rushed down the stairs, with a newfound resolve. She had an energy she did not remember since rushing after Draco on the night of Dumbledore’s assassination. She made her way out to the garden and unceremoniously barged her way out the door and to the tables where Potter’s party was being held.

“Valeria,” Molly said, surprised. All eyes were on Valeria, a mixture of confused and vaguely friendly expressions. “C—Come join us. Have a sea—”

“I want to say something, if you’ll allow me,” Valeria said, trembling from the pounding in her chest.

“O–Of course,” Arthur said. Valeria could feel their eyes on her.

“I’m sorry for disturbing…Um, just—” she said, but no words came. She decided to simply unfold Konstantin’s letter and read it aloud as she held it in her shaking hands and with hitched breath. She spoke his words to all of them, keeping her eyes focused sharply on the page so as to avoid seeing their expressions or judgement. She carefully, left out most of his last paragraph. The part about Draco was the only portion of the letter that she took issue with, having known him so well.

When she finished she slowly raised her head, immediately feeling a pang of regret at her choice. She took in the faces of everyone present. Ron was slack jawed, Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, Potter was wide eyed, and even Ginny had compassion in her expression. The silence was oddly deafening. The adults around the tables wore mixtures of shock, sadness, confusion and intrigue on their faces. Valeria could not take the tension any longer.

“I—I,” she swallowed. “I want to help you.” She knew all too well what this declaration meant; she was in no uncertain terms, a blood traitor.

“Valeria,” Molly said, coming to her side and grabbing a gently hold of her arm. “Come, sit down. You’re very upset—”

Valeria pulled herself from Molly’s grasp. “But I’m thinking entirely clearly. Listen, I know things. Things I haven’t told anyone. I know spells, potions, dark ones too that can help you.” Tears were welling up in her eyes. “And I’m willing, if you’ll have me.”

Arthur Weasley approached her. “You understand what you’re saying. Your family, your friends…they won’t forgive this.”

“I know,” she said, nearly in tears. “But you heard what he wrote. That’s not…the world he wanted and nor do I. That doesn’t leave me with many options. I—I’m not asking to save my own skin. This is what Konstantin would want…and I’m doing it for him and I’m doing it for Draco.”

“What?” Arthur asked.

“I want, should the opportunity come…to bring Draco into the fold too. At least, I want the offer that Dumbledore gave him to still stand,” Valeria said.

“I’m not sure that’s possible now. I don’t see how we could be capable of—” Arthur said.

“I don’t expect any of you to do a damn thing. I’ll do it myself. If anyone can do it, it’s me,” Valeria said.

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying…” Arthur replied.

“I do! Potter said it himself that Draco was about to take Dumbledore’s offer when the other Death Eaters arrived,” Valeria said, turning to Potter.

“He was lowering his wand,” Harry said, standing up. “But he only did that when Voldemort was about to murder him, his family and you. Why would he agree to come to our side now?”

“Because it’s me,” Valeria said. She turned back to Arthur Weasley. “Sir, I know him. They’re going to tear him apart no matter how blindly he obeys. I know how it sounds, I’m not stupid, but I _know_ him. He’s not a monster.”

Mrs. Weasley took Valeria by putting her arm her shoulder in a motherly fashion.

“Let’s get you some tea and cake and we can talk about this inside,” Molly said kindly.

Valeria obeyed feeling embarrassed and emboldened all at once. It was real now; She and Draco were on opposing sides, but she did not intend to keep it that way for long, no matter what she had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is the last chapter with a long letter, but it was necessary to get Valeria where she needs to go. Thank you for sticking with me and for the love.


	7. Never Trust Hope

_"There were ways out. We just never saw them," she told him._

_"There was never a way out. Not for us," he said._

_*****_

The Weasleys, and other older Order members, had sent Valeria to bed after a long conversation held once Potter’s party was over. She remained firm in her resolve to join their effort and restated her reasoning repeatedly. They were shocked, but satisfied. If anything, and after careful questioning, they seemed almost relieved to have Valeria on their side. She fell asleep unsure, but kept her brother’s warning in her mind. She hoped that this was what he would want, that he would be proud of her.

“Valeria,” a voice hissed in a whisper, startling Valeria out of her sleep. She awoke with a jerk to see Hermione standing over her, muttering apologies.

“You really need to stop sneaking up on me,” Valeria groaned.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said genuinely. “I just had to wait until everyone else was sleeping.”

That piqued Valeria’s interest. “What do you want?” she asked groggily.

“First, I just...I’m sorry about your brother. Being muggleborn myself…I can’t imagine…” Hermione said. With everything going on, Valeria had forgotten about Hermione’s blood status. She could see that Hermione had been truly touched, one way or another, by Konstantin’s letter. Valeria, still processing her brother’s words, didn’t really know what to say in response.

“Is that all?” Valeria asked, noticing the old book Granger was clutching to her chest. Hermione tensed for a moment.

“No. I wanted to ask you about something pertaining to a…specific form of dark magic. You mentioned at Harry’s party that you wanted to help…But you must promise not to tell _anyone_ —”

“Get to the point, Granger,” Valeria said, rubbing one of her eyes. Hermione opened the old book to a specific page and handed it to Valeria.

“Do you know anything about these?” Hermione asked. Looking down at the page Valeria was shocked to see the word _HORCRUXES_ titling the chapter. She immediately felt more awake and looked up at Granger.

“What could you possibly want with _these_?!” Valeria hissed, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“So you know about them?!” Granger said, legitimately shocked. Valeria’s eyes danced around the pages of the chapter, becoming more revolted, the more she read.

“Not much,” Valeria admitted. “I’ve never read about them, but my father mentioned them once and only once. Even he thought they were too vile to speak about.”

“What did he say?” Hermione asked.

“Again, not much and it was a long time ago,” Valeria began. “I asked him when I was younger if there was a way that magic could make us immortal, out of curiosity. He started saying that Horcruxes would be the closest you can get, but then he seemed to catch himself, saying that even the darkest wizards found them so foul that they wouldn’t dare to try it. He didn’t explain much else.”

“Did he perhaps mention if it were possible to…split one’s soul more than once…?” Granger asked, wringing her hands. Valeria looked at her wide eyed.

“Granger, why would you need to—”

“I can’t tell you,” Hermione defended.

“Then I don’t want to be a part of this,” Valeria said.

“Listen—”

“No, you listen,” Valeria said. “This isn’t the Killing Curse or poison. This is magic that even dark wizards won’t touch! If I don’t know why you need to know about this stuff, then I don’t want to help you.”

Granger curled her lip inward, considering, and let out a nervous, hitched sigh. “Dumbledore gave Harry a task involving Horcruxes before he died and we’re helping him learn as much about them as we can. That’s all I can tell you.”

“You’re trying find one?” Valeria whispered darkly.

“Or more, if they exist…” Hermione said sheepishly.

Valeria sighed. “My father never mentioned being able to split your own soul more than once, but Konstantin…he was interested in the higher mysterious and he would tell me this story to scare me when I was a kid…”

“What was it?!” Hermione asked anxiously.

“It was just a scary story, I can’t tell you how true any of it is. He said that long, long ago an evil wizard once split his soul apart three times doing things so foul that they have not been spoken of since. He cast the bits of his soul to the four corners of the earth to ensure no one could ever find them or defeat him; a grain of sand at the bottom of the ocean, a speck of dust locked in hundreds of feet of ice at the south pole, and a single rock at the bottom of deepest, darkest cave on earth. Konstantin would tell me that he still wanders the world, haunting little girls who annoyed their brothers,” Valeria recalled. The memory was so vivid, she could feel the fear that once struck her when Konstantin would tell her the story.

“I see…” Hermione said, looking shocked, but intrigued.

“Like I said, it’s just an old story. But legends like that have a habit of being at least somewhat true. I never put the two together,” Valeria said.

“Can I ask…? Your family, they were invested in dark magic. Would it be possible that they had any books or anything that might also help us learn more?” Hermione asked. Valeria shook her head.

“I don’t know. Anything remotely related to dark magic was so hidden, that even I didn’t notice it. My brother had a book that my mother gave me last year. It’s mainly spells, some of which I learned. I don’t know how helpful that would be,” Valeria said.

“Could I borrow it? Just to look it over?”

“I gave it to Daphne Greengrass since I figured it would be confiscated before I came here,” Valeria said. “I can give it to you once I’m back at school.”

Hermione looked disappointed, which was peculiar, but Valeria was too distracted by the sudden inquiry regarding Horcruxes. Studying Granger’s face, coupled with knowledge of some secret task she was on, it began to dawn on Valeria that the former was not planning on returning to Hogwarts. Valeria stood and went to the little desk, more a small table really, and began to scribble on parchment.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked.

“I told you that anything pertaining to dark magic was kept out of sight from me, not that it wasn’t there,” Valeria said.

“The Winters Estate was raided by the Ministry more than once. Would anything still even be there anyway?” Granger asked. Valeria looked at her and nodded.

“It’s a fortress. Hundreds of years old and heavily bewitched. There are several secret passages and rooms, some of them I might not even know about. I can almost guarantee there are dark materials in there somewhere. The enchantments are too strong to use _Accio,_ ” Valeria said. “Is it just the three of you on this…assignment?”

Hermione nodded and Valeria continued to write. She blew on the ink once she was finished and handed it to Granger.

“ _Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are formally invited, per this invitation to the Winters Castle, at any time, date and at their convenience. Signed, Valeria T. Winters_ ,” Hermione read aloud. “I don’t understand.”

“You can only access the castle by invitation of a Winters family member. By writing it down, it can’t be easily rescinded. It’d be next to impossible for you to even find otherwise,” Valeria explained. “It’s one of the most secure places in the British Isles. All the portraits have been taken town and by all accounts, my mother is sheltering elsewhere. It’s your best shot at finding anything there, since I doubt I’ll be going back until after I leave Hogwarts. It’d also be a rather convenient place to hide, should anyone need it. If you take my meaning…”

Hermione looked wide-eyed, but also relieved. She quickly folded the parchment and put it in a secure pocket.

“That’s extremely generous,” Hermione said. Valeria nodded.

“I doubt the Floo network is open there, but you can apparate. It will be difficult, but other members of your Order—rather, _the_ Order, have been there before,” Valeria said. She continued, carefully describing the estate and its location in detail so Hermione could picture it best in her mind’s eye. She made Granger repeat it back several times until she couldn’t get it wrong. “This is probably the best I can do for you, for now.”

“You’ve done more than what I asked. I don’t know how to thank you,” Granger said. Valeria and Hermione exchanged goodnights before the latter left the room to let Valeria get some more sleep. She slept in later than she expected, which was not unusual, but was awoken by the growing noise of people rushing about downstairs. Valeria had nearly forgotten about the wedding in all that happened in the past twelve or so hours.

Valeria got ready for the day, putting on her glamours and magicking her hair to its default perfection. She descended the stairs to chaos; People were in mixtures of formal and casual robes, constantly in and out. Molly was furiously cooking and Mrs. Delacour was the only one seemingly at ease and completely serene.

“Ah, Valeria!” Molly called. “Have a seat, have a seat. I’ll throw you a plate together.” Valeria knew better by now than to argue back, as Molly seemed to be barely containing her nerves. A plate of food was set before her and she ate quietly, observing the scene. Although no one had the time to sit and talk with her for long, everyone who passed by would at least nod with a smile at her or greet her by name. It was surprisingly pleasant.

Valeria retreated upstairs, figuring the best way for her to help at this point would be to stay out of the way. A knock on her door surprised her, given that she figured the last thing anyone would be concerned about was her. She opened it to find Ginny standing nervously in the doorway.

“Hi,” Valeria said, a bit surprised.

“Can I come in?” Ginny asked. Valeria nodded and shut the door behind Ginny. “I know I’ve made fun of it in the past and I’m sorry, but it’s a wedding and all and your glamours…”

Valeria laughed a little. The first in a long time. “Would you like me to help?”

“Everyone else is just really busy and I…I could do it myself, but you just always look…” Ginny said, blushing a little. Valeria smiled and pulled out the chair by her little desk and Ginny had a seat. Valeria got together all her supplies, asking Ginny for her input along the way. “You do this every day?”

Valeria nodded. “Since I was little.”

“It’s so tedious. Why?” Ginny asked.

“My parents were very big on appearances. I just got used to it,” Valeria said with a small shrug. “You don’t really need all this stuff. Why now?”

“It’s a wedding, isn’t it?” Ginny said.

“Anyone in particular you’re doing this for…” Valeria teased a little.

“For myself,” Ginny insisted.

“I like that answer,” Valeria said. She picked up a small mirror and gave it to Ginny, who although pretty as she was, now looked as though she were ready for a _Witch Weekly_ cover. Ginny examined her face, touching her skin and hair gently. “What do you think?”

“It’s different…but I like it, I think,” Ginny said.

“You’ll get used to it,” Valeria said. “I can do other things, if you like. My mother taught me some spells to make your voice sound more pleasant, or to not sweat so much if you’re gonna be dancing—”

“That might be a bit too much for me,” Ginny replied.

“—Or to make your breath more pleasant for a few hours if you’re going to be eating fish or something,” Valeria continued.

“Maybe that one,” Ginny said after considering. Valeria performed the spell and Ginny tried to smell her breath to notice a difference, which made Valeria laugh.

“You’re going to get a lot of compliments. Just make it your own and have fun,” Valeria advised, putting her glamours away.

“I’m sure you’ll get plenty too,” Ginny said. Valeria looked down.

“I think I’ll take the time for some peace and quiet instead,” Valeria said, as politely as she could.

“You’re not going?” Ginny asked.

“I’m not sure it’d be appropriate. I told Fleur that too—”

“Fleur will kill you if you don’t, not to mention my mum,” Ginny argued.

“I’m not sure…”

Ginny stood. “It’s up to you, I guess. But if you want to be part of this, it’d be good for you to go. What do you have to lose?”

Valeria considered. Making an appearance would be the decent thing to do. Besides, the food was bound to be good, and she desperately missed music and dancing. Not to mention, there’d certainly be drinks to calm any nerves she might have. It surprised her that it was Ginny of all people trying to convince her and Valeria eventually relented.

“I better get ready then. I’m pretty behind,” Valeria said. Ginny looked satisfied and thanked Valeria again for her help. Once she left, Valeria got her glamours back out and did up her face and hair quickly, fortunately having enough experience to get it right on the first try. The most difficult part was choosing which dress robes to wear as hers were a year or two behind current trends, not that any of the attendees would really notice. She rifled through her clothing until stumbling on some purple dress robes that she immediately recognized; the ones she wore to the Yule Ball. They were gorgeous, almost timeless, but she could not bear to wear them again, thinking about dancing and laughing with Draco the entire night. It brought her too close to tears.

She settled for a set of deep green robes, one of her favorite colors, and put them on. She used magic to smooth them out after being tucked away so long. Examining herself in the mirror, she oddly felt more like herself than she had in a long while. Parties and events were when she was most in her element, and the more she prepared, the more she looked forward to a day of relief from the dark circumstances surrounding everyone.

At the appointed time, Valeria hesitantly descended the stairs and made her way to the orchard where the wedding was being held. She was greeted by Ron, the Weasley twins and a face she didn’t recognize, but a Weasley of some sort, no doubt. Ron greeted her a bit awkwardly, but the twin with the missing ear, she believed it was George, stepped forward.

“Elegant as ever, Winters,” he said with a smile, holding out his arm. “Can I take you to a seat?” The offer was a bit bold, but Valeria, still a bit nervous, accepted. “That one is Harry in disguise, don’t mention it to anyone.” George whispered in her ear, nodding his head back in the direction of the mystery Weasley usher. Valeria nodded in understanding.

“Somewhere in the back, if you don’t mind,” Valeria requested.

“There are the Lovegoods, how about there?” George asked.

“I think I’d rather sit with strangers,” Valeria said.

“Pfft,” George replied. “Luna’s around your age, isn’t she? It’d be good for you to catch up, go on.” He released her at the row in which the Lovegoods were seated. Short on time and not wanting to cause even a small fuss, Valeria relented at took a seat beside Luna and a deranged looking man Valeria could only assume was Luna’s father.

“Hi, Valeria,” Luna greeted serenely.

“Hello, Lovegood,” Valeria replied.

“This is my father Xenophilius Lovegood. Father, this is Valeria Winters. She’s a year ahead of me at school and a very talented potion maker,” Luna said. Xenophilius was taken aback, but intrigued as he shook Valeria’s hand.

“Winters as in Hieronymous Winters…?” he asked delicately.

“The same,” Valeria said. “Is that an issue?” Valeria was beginning to think attending the wedding was a mistake and was none too thrilled at being reminded just how low her very name had sunk in the eyes of this crowd.

“Any friend of the Weasleys is a friend of mine,” he said. ‘Friend’ was perhaps a bit of a strong word, but Valeria was relieved by the sentiment all the same. She would not have guessed it would have been so easy to gain the trust of these people. The Lovegoods began babbling at Valeria, remembering she hailed from Wales, about some Welsh spring whose water give one the gift of flight unassisted and how the Ministry had been covering it up for decades, or some other nonsense that Valeria only partially listened to.

Fortunately, the wedding procession started soon enough and Valeria was mesmerized by Fleur, who was naturally radiant as she strode down the aisle, arm-in-arm, with her beaming father. Weddings were a weakness for Valeria. She had attended a few for distant relatives and family friends and she adored them. She had not given too much thought to a wedding of her own, that was so very far off after all, but it always brought her joy to attend one, and this one was surprisingly no different.

Immediately following the ceremony, and at the earliest opportunity, Valeria headed straight for the drinks, wanting a little liquid confidence to get herself through the rest of the evening. The tables were primarily full of strangers and so she reluctantly made her way to where Granger, Weasley, Luna and Potter in disguise were and asked to join them, thankful they accepted. She watched the dancing, feeling the urge to join in, but did not want to draw attention to herself. Instead, she enjoyed it vicariously and observed the others until she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned to see Lupin and Tonks, more cleaned up than she had ever seen them.

“Sir. Tonks,” she greeted, unhappy to see Lupin.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Tonks said, tapping Lupin on the arm before strutting away. Valeria stood from her seat with her drink in hand.

“Molly and Arthur told me about last night. Your brother’s letter and your decision. I’m very sorry for what happened to Konstantin and to you,” Lupin began.

“Thank you,” Valeria said coolly. He reached into a pocket and extended to her the serpentine ward he had confiscated days earlier.

“No traces of dark magic were found, but you already knew that, I’m guessing,” he said, a little awkwardly. Valeria immediately took it from him and wriggled the bracelet back onto her wrist. She suddenly felt better; Less naked and safer somehow. “It’s old magic, blood magic, but not inherently dark in nature.”

“Blood magic?” Valeria asked.

Lupin nodded. “Wards such as these require the blood of the giver as their source of magical power. Malfoy—Draco—must care for you very much.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Valeria replied, looking at it and running the fingers of her opposite hand over it.

“The good news is that you have my trust. I am truly sorry for doubting you,” he said sincerely.

“And I hope you will forgive that it will take me some time to return the favor,” she said, still angry, but at least vindicated.

“That is understandable. Enjoy the wedding, Valeria. I’m glad you’re with us,” he said, stepping away to find Tonks, presumably. Valeria finished her drink and went for another, and then another after that. She was seated, alone observant and more relaxed when George approached her once more.

“Now a lady such as you should not be sitting alone,” he said. She raised an eyebrow. “I have come to ask if you would do me the honor of a dance.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you just seem rather comfortable with one of Fleur’s relatives?” Valeria asked.

“Oh, but there is plenty of me to go around, despite the high demand, Winters,” he said with a smile extending his hand. Valeria could not help but laugh a little at that.

“Did your mum put you up to this?” she asked. George gasped, pretending to be offended.

“Is that how low you think of me? If you must know, I just want to thank you helping with my whole ear mishap,” he said, gesturing to his missing ear. Valeria laughed and took his hand, the drink getting to her and bolstering her boldness.

“Just try to keep up, will you?” she said with a smirk as she stood.

“I _knew_ you had some spunk in you, Winters,” he said. She followed him to the floor for and he took her waist, closer to him than she expected, and they began to dance. George was clumsier on his feet, but her experience in dance made up for his mistakes. She forgot proper form and steps almost entirely as they continued. Perhaps it was the drinks, or the feeling of friendly touch after so long, but she was letting herself go. She found herself smiling, laughing even, though his jokes were a tad on the obnoxious side. She was having _fun_. Never would she have dreamed of being caught dead dancing with a Weasley and yet, there she was for all to see.

She lost track of how long they danced, though it was for quite some time. It was only when their legs were about to give in that they stopped and clapped for the musicians. He did a silly bow as she curtseyed to him properly, and she thanked him before sending him on his way to flirt once more with Fleur’s relatives. She quenched her exhausted thirst with water this time and could not help but admit to herself that she was enjoying this. All of it.

Perhaps what she believed impossible; Forgiveness, new life, could happen for her if she allowed it. She could learn from Konstantin’s mistakes and tread a different course. She wondered what he would think of her, if he could see her. Would he happy for her? Would he be the least bit proud? Perhaps relieved? It pained her that she would never know, but used her own feelings now to guide her thoughts. This was possible. There was a future, a real one, somewhere out there.

The ward began to tremble.

She looked at her wrist, holding it with the opposite hand. She had to be only imagining it; She had been drinking, after all. But as more seconds passed, the harder the trembling became and some terrible, instinctual dread filled her gut and evaporated her elated spirits. She looked up, eyes darting around the room, looking for anything remotely threatening. There was nothing, only drunken guests and joyful laughter. She saw Granger across the room, speaking to a disguised Potter and darted for them.

“Granger!” Valeria said.

“Valeria? What is it? Are you okay?” Hermione asked, panting from having just finished dancing. Valeria held up the ward on her wrist.

“This, you remember this, right?” Valeria began, confounding Granger and Potter further. “It trembles when there’s danger coming or near and it’s going off now. Feel it!” Hermione, suddenly focused, obeyed and touched the ward before looking Valeria in the eye, frightened.

“What kind of danger?” Potter asked.

“I don’t know! But something’s wrong and—”

Before Valeria could finish a spectral like lynx descended onto the dance floor, stopping everyone where they stood. Valeria’s heart pounded as it spoke in the recognizable voice of Shacklebolt.

_“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”_

It vanished and the guests stood in a state of confusion and misunderstanding until a scream filled the silent air. Suddenly, it was chaos, and Valeria immediately remembered running about Hogwarts in panic, trying to find Draco the night Dumbledore died. Guests began to disapparate and Valeria’s heart fell through her, realizing the protective enchantments around the Weasley property were gone.

“I can buy you time!” Valeria shouted, barely processing what was happening, to Granger and Potter over the screaming.

“We have to find Ron!” Hermione shouted back. Granger and Potter pushed their way through the crowd and Valeria followed them, seeing the masked figures clad in black popping into the crowd. She tried to hide her face the best she could. Hermione cried out for Ron, and Valeria realized there was no time. She stood near and in front of Potter and Granger and brandished her wand.

 _“Umbraobscurus,”_ Valeria thought, remembering the spell from Konstantin’s book _The Mystery and Majesty of the Dark Arts_. From her wand spat dark, nearly black, shadows that swirled around the three of them.

“Go! Now!” Valeria commanded. A small glint of light buzzed over them and through the shadows, and she glanced behind her to see that Ron had somehow found them through the darkness. Valeria did not care how, she only shouted at them to go and they finally did, as she maintained the spell, difficult to cast and she had been out of practice with it for a few months. She began to release the spell once she heard the popping sound of the Gryffindors disapparating behind her. She imagined home in her mind’s eye; The quiet castle on the lake in the peaceful, splendid, night of the Welsh valley far away, and was prepared to disapparate herself.

But it was too late. The time she had taken to maintain the _Umbraobscurus_ spell made her vulnerable and the last thing she felt as her vision went black was her body falling to the ground.


	8. Arrangement of Memory

_"And if there's no way out?" he asked._

_"We make one," she demanded._

_*****_

Draco awoke to dreadful sounds that he momentarily believed were in his dreams. He had become such a light sleeper that nearly any noise out of the ordinary jolted him awake. Coming from some distance away, he could still hear the commotion and so he got of bed, put on a robe and grabbed his wand before tentatively going to investigate. He did not want to risk being late should he be called upon. Opening the door, he saw his mother already approaching, Lucius following close behind her, with a look of dread on her face. He let them in the room and shut the door.

“What’s happening?” Draco asked. 

“They found Valeria,” Narcissa said flatly in her soft voice, putting her hand on his arm in comfort. Draco had a feeling his mother had been hoping Valeria would stay lost so as not to force the two into their approaching fate. Draco’s heart sank and then filled with panic.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“She’s here, Draco. She’s been brought here,” his mother clarified. His panic morphed to horror. His throat went dry and his breath hastened.

“Y-you have to do something. You have to help her,” Draco said, turned to his father. 

“Draco—” Lucius said.

“Hieronymus was your friend!” he hissed. “She’s his last child.”

“Get a hold of yourself,” Lucius commanded.

“They’re going to hurt her,” Draco said.

“She will not be harmed so long as she cooperates, and she knows better than to do otherwise. The plan will move forward—” Lucius started.

“I don’t care about the damn—” Draco began in rage.

“Quiet!” Lucius hissed with a malice Draco had never heard from his father before. “You better pretend to care or else we are finished.” Lucius composed himself, the exhausted fear and fury in his eyes calming. “I’m summoning Severus.” Lucius turned, giving one final look of warning to his distressed son, and walked away. Narcissa gave Draco a sad, sympathetic look and squeezed his arm before following her husband away.

Draco ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of something, anything, to do. He could never forgive himself if he did nothing. His breath was loud and furious, and his hands shook as he made his way down the many steps quickly, but trying to keep out of sight. The other Death Eaters were, he hoped, far too distracted by what had happened at the Ministry to notice him skulking about. He exited through the front door of the Manor and walked, nearly running, to the wrought iron gate and waited there in darkness and deafening silence of the night.

He did not keep track of how much time had passed, but when he heard a quiet popping noise his head shot up, meeting eyes with the black cloaked Snape who managed to hide his surprise at seeing Draco.

“Malfoy,” Snape greeted as he passed through the gate, but Draco stopped him before Snape had the opportunity to ask what Draco was doing there.

“They have her. You have to help her,” Draco said maddened by fear.

“I don’t take your meaning.”

“Valeria Winters!” Draco hissed. “They have her. They’re going to interrogate her, try to find out what she knows. They’re going to hurt her…I can’t...you have to be the one to do it.”

“Do what?” Snape asked, not remotely fazed by Draco’s words.

“You have to interrogate her. You’re the only one, of all of them, who won’t hurt her.”

He sighed. “Malfoy, some decisions aren’t up to m—”

“He trusts you! They’ll all do what you tell them to. Please, sir, she’s my friend. If she’s going to be my w…” Draco couldn’t bring himself to say that last word aloud. “All of them will do what you tell them. Please sir, she’s my friend. You’ve known her for ages, she was one of your best students—”

“Severus,” a voice called, Draco’s mother was standing at the open door. “Draco, what are you doing?”

“He was simply updating me on the situation.” Snape said, striding toward the Manor, Draco following along behind. 

“Draco, to your room. Now.” Narcissa said as they entered. Draco looked to Severus and then to his mother. He followed her order to leave, but stepped out of sight above the entrance hall as others began to gather below.

“Severus, glad you’re here. We need your advice,” Lucius said with a hint of disdain.

“Happy to be of service,” Snape said, sounding the opposite of pleased

“Valeria Winters has been retrieved, maybe even rescued. The Greengrass report was correct and she was apparently with the Order,” Lucius explained.

“So I’ve heard. Where is she now?” Snape asked.

“In the cellar with the wandmaker. I told them to keep her unconscious for the moment. I didn’t want her to panic,” Lucius said. Draco’s hand clenched to a fist. She was in what amounted to prison. The thought of her lying there on the cold stone floor, unconscious and in darkness, sent him into a place of fear.

“And what is the plan now?” Severus asked. 

“We need to find out if she knows anything about Potter, his plans or his whereabouts. Others are on the case, of course, but we need all the information we can gather. I figure it’s best that I question her rather than Bellatrix,” Lucius said. Draco swallowed. He trusted his father not to harm Valeria, mostly, but not enough to put her safety above his own interests, at least not anymore.

“I think it’s best that I do it,” Snape said, matter-of-factly

“She’s known our family since she was born. She’s going to be our daughter-in-law,” Lucius said, borderline outrage. There was no doubt in Draco’s mind that his father would do anything to take credit for any information he could get out of Valeria, and Snape was trying to thwart his ambitions. Draco found himself relieved, despite the declined status of the Malfoy name. Snape had, although Draco was still bitter about it, finished Draco’s mission, ultimately saving their lives. 

“Lucius, Severus was her teacher. She is more likely to obey his authority than the rest of us,” Narcissa said. Draco had no clue if his mother had caught on, but no matter what, he was grateful. If anyone could convince his father, it was her.

“She’s confided in me in the past,” Snape admitted. “It’d he best to do this without provoking her. Remember the goal is to turn her to our cause not spurn her away.”

“And if you can’t get anything out of her?” Lucius asked.

“Then I’ll call for yours or Bella’s assistance. Direct me to Winters,” Snape said. Begrudgingly, Lucius led the way toward the cellar and Narcissa began making her way upstairs. Draco knew he could not follow further, and so he dashed back to his room before he was discovered spying. He paced around his room, unable to sit down or rest until he knew she was safe. She was here. The worst would be happening, he knew. It was taking him all of his remaining strength to contain himself.

Valeria was awakened, if being dazed with aching muscles and a pounding headache can be deemed awake. Before she opened her eyes, she felt cold all around her, a hard stone floor beneath her and a stone wall against her back. She lifted her stiff and aching neck, realizing she was still her dress robes from the wedding.

“Miss Winters.”

She knew that voice, could not be mistaken for another. Steely and devoid of emotion, her stomach felt like it was twisting in on itself as she realized that the worst had happened and the Death Eaters had captured her. She slowly raised her eyes and saw none other than Professor Snape looming above her. 

“Prof—” she managed to say through the hoarseness of her throat. 

“We must speak quickly,” Snape said.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“The cellar of Malfoy Manor,” Snape said. Valeria felt more awake at the shock of Snape’s words. Malfoy Manor…a place she had been a thousand times as a welcomed guest. Now she was trapped in the basement, taken for a prisoner. Malfoy Manor…Draco. Where was Draco?

“I don’t understa—” she tried to say.

“There’s no time,” Snape interrupted. “You must tell me everything you know about your time with the Order.”

“I don’t know anything. I just stayed there,” she said.

“You’re lying,” Snape sneered.

“Why would they tell _me_ anything after I helped you murder Dumbledore?” she asked, not trusting Snape worth a damn.

“Enough,” Snape said sternly. “There’s no time for games.” He raised his wand and pointed it at her face. “ _Legilimens._ ”

The dark cellar began to sway and move, as if it were underwater, until it was gone. Suddenly, images flashed before her eyes without her control. The Burrow…weeping over Konstantin’s grave…Jane Masters…making potions for the retrieval of Potter…Lupin taking the ward…Jane’s letter…Konstantin’s letter…telling the Order about the Death Eaters…reading the letter to the Order…offering to…dancing with George Weasley…the invitation for Granger…the trio’s plan to leave…the conversation about Horcruxes…the giant word on the title of the page: _HORCRUXES._

Snape pulled back and Valeria panted, shouting at him to stop. She looked up at him and for once there was emotion in his eyes: complete and utter shock. She knew that he knew and she never felt more stupid or guilty in her life. If she were responsible for any more deaths, she didn’t know if she could bear it. Snape crouched down to meet her eye level.

“For your own safety, I have to alter your memories,” he said.

“What?!”

“You have knowledge that is more dangerous than you can comprehend. Unless you are an extremely skilled Occlumens, you cannot leave this cellar with those memories in your head. Do you understand?” Snape explained.

“But I can leave the cellar?” she asked hopefully. “Can I go home?”

“You will be able to leave this cellar if you consent to me altering your memories,” Snape said. Valeria was confused as to why Snape would not use whatever this dangerous information was to inform the Dark Lord, but she found herself in no position to question him. “You will, in all likelihood remain at Malfoy Manor until the start of term.”

Her heart sunk again. “Why?”

“That is not for me to say. Do you consent?” he asked again. Valeria looked down. Perhaps Snape was trying to be kind, offering a choice or maybe it was out of some distorted sense of duty. Either way, it hardly mattered for it certainly did not feel to her like a real choice. It was clear to Valeria that no matter what she said, all was lost. There was truly never a real way to avoid it, despite the past few days. Like Konstantin, she was one of them and always would be. She nodded weakly, tears filling her eyes, that she refused to let him see. She could sense Snape move again and he wordlessly cast a spell.

Her recent memories swirled again, and suddenly there was darkness. July 31st and August 1st were dark pits of nothing. There was nothing there to recall, but it only lasted an instant. The empty void filled back in with sharp sights and clear sounds. No unknown to her, Snape had erased the conversation with Granger around Horcruxes and Valeria’s offer of aid. All she remembered of that night was sleeping peacefully. He left her brother’s letter inside, but changed her memory of her own response. Finally, he altered their own conversation, rather parts of it. She did not recall any talk of altering her mind.

“What did you speak with Granger about late last night?” Snape asked when finished.

“I didn’t,” Valeria responded, genuinely confused.

“And what did you do when you read your Konstantin’s last letter?” he asked.

She struggled to recall. “I—I…I hid it away.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I was ashamed of it…” she said, her mind foggy. The answer however seemed to satisfy Snape.

“I will fetch Narcissa who will take you somewhere more comfortable. Wait here a moment,” Snape said, before striding away and up out of the cellar. Valeria was left again in near total darkness as the light from his wand faded away. Her head was pounding with stabbing pain, and it hurt her neck to even hold it up properly on her shoulders. She breathed heavily through the pain, trying to manage it, but was struck with fear when she heard weak, strained groaning somewhere nearby.

“Who’s there?” she called out weakly. The groan continued and she heard movement. “Who’s there?!”

“O—Ollivander…”

“The wandmaker?” Valeria asked, surprised.

“Who else?” Ollivander said, weakly though with some good humor. “And with whom am I speaking. Forgive me, it’s quite dark in here.”

“Valeria Winters.”

“Ah…yes. I remember. Rowan wood…dragon heartstring core,” Ollivander rambled.

“I know what I wand I have!” Valeria snapped. She composed herself. “Sorry…”

To her surprise, Ollivander laughed. “And that is precisely why your wand chose you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Rowan wood is defensive and quite powerful. Strong, resolute, very difficult to turn to the dark arts and I cannot recall any instance where one has…” Ollivander said, piquing Valeria’s interest having used her rowan wood wand to practice dark spells. “And dragon heartsting; Equally powerful, some would say flamboyant, but the easiest to turn to the dark arts. I remember quite well being fascinated by such a combination. There is a certain duality in your wand. Two forces working together, but inherently at odds.”

Valeria considered, but her pain and fear rendered her too uninterested in wandlore. Before she could speak again, she heard the door to the cellar open and light filled the room. Valeria squinted in the brightness, trying to make out the figure stepping across the floor toward her. The wand lowered and wordlessly, the body bind she was in released and her body felt free, but weakened.

“Come, now.”

Valeria looked up to see Narcissa Malfoy, just as Snape had said, bending down and taking Valeria by the wrists to help her up. Without a word, Valeria accepted Narcissa’s help and followed her out. Narcissa kept Valeria close attempting to express a certain quiet comfort to ease Valeria’s distress. Malfoy Manor had not changed in any way, despite the cellar turned to a prison, since Valeria had last visited. It was still decorated with dark elegance and remained an imposing structure, but this was the first time Valeria ever feared it.

They stopped at a door after a long walk down halls and up staircases. Narcissa opened the door and gestured for Valeria to follow. It was a large guest-room with a massive bed, physically, at least, an upgrade from her assigned quarters in the Weasleys' home. It was like the guestrooms she had stayed in while on previous visits, it may have even been the same one, Valeria could not entirely recall, but all the warmth and excitement had been sucked out of it. It felt like a more comfortable cell.

“You can rest here for the night, wash up and whatever you need,” Narcissa began. “I’m told your things will be arriving soon, but I stocked that wardrobe there with fresh clothes of mine until yours arrive. They should suffice for the time being.”

“Mrs. Malfoy, where’s my mother?” Valeria asked. Narcissa inhaled deeply.

“You will see her soon. I promise,” Narcissa said. Valeria did not have it in her to fully believe that. Narcissa approached. “Get some rest. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Everything will be explained in the morning, but you’re safe now. You’re in no danger. Understand?”

Valeria nodded meekly. Narcissa squeezed Valeria’s arms and bid her goodnight as she shut the door behind her. She locked it magically and quickly before making her way back down to the sitting room, where Draco was anxiously pacing about once again. Snape stood idly by as they waited and Lucius sat in an armchair, himself filled with tension. Odessa Winters wrung her hands with her head lowered in her own seat. When he heard the door unlatch and saw his mother enter, Draco rushed to her and Odessa got to her feet.

“Where is she? Is she alri—” Draco began.

“She’s fine. She’s a bit shaken up, but she’s otherwise well. She’ll be staying in one of the guest-rooms for now. I told her that we’d tell her everything in the morning,” Narcissa said.

“And you’re sure she knows nothing that could aid us, Severus?” Lucius asked.

“As I said, I used legilimency and found nothing useful. It seems that the Order were merely hiding for her own sake, as they told her. They made no effort to persuade her to their side and Miss Winters has no sympathy for their cause,” Snape reiterated.

“So what now?” Draco asked impatiently.

“We will proceed as planned,” Snape said.

“Narcissa said the arrangements are all in order,” Lucius said.

Narcissa nodded. “We need only name a date.” Odessa whimpered a little. Draco could not bear to look at Valeria’s mother, blushing with shame or rage. Narcissa went to comfort Odessa and muttered quietly to her friend.

“The announcement will run in _The Prophet_ in the morning,” Lucius said, standing.

“She hasn’t even accepted yet!” Draco protested.

“No, but she will,” Lucius insisted.

“I will tell her,” Odessa said through quiet tears.

“I am of the opinion that that duty belongs to Draco,” Snape said, emotionless. Draco shared a look with Snape, and though it was the last thing Draco wanted to do, his gut sunk realizing that Snape was right.

“I am her mother!” Odessa yelled.

“Severus is right,” Lucius said. “Draco needs to learn that he is responsible for her and as he is to be her hus—”

“Don’t say it!” Odessa cried out. “Responsible for her? He does not own her!”

Draco looked down shamefully as Odessa yelled, despising being spoken of as if he were not present and equally hating Valeria being spoken of as his responsibility, for more reasons than one.

“She belongs to the Dark Lord,” Snape interrupted. “As we all do. Remember that, Odessa.” Lucius approached his son.

“You will tell her first thing in the morning. Your mother will give you the license for you both to sign.

Draco nodded. “It should…She should hear it from me.”

“Please…” Odessa interrupted again. “Just let me see her. It’s been so long…”

“Odessa should be first,” Narcissa said. “Valeria asked for her.”

Snape sighed. “Odessa, you can see her before Draco, but you must not mention the arrangement, just as Draco said.”

Odessa looked heartbroken, completely shattered, but nodded. The once noble woman of intimidating class and refinement was in pieces. Unable to bear any more talk of this matter, at least as far as Draco could figure, Odessa marched out of the room in frustration and heartbreak.

“We will have to send her away before the wedding,” Snape said.

Draco was shocked, but his mother was absolutely appalled. “Severus, that’s too cruel.”

“She is unstable, Narcissa,” Snape began. “We cannot afford any other influences on Valeria; She’s fragile enough as it is.”

“Draco, to your room. Your presence is not needed for this conversation,” Lucius said.

“If it’s about Valeria I think it does,” Draco said.

“Go. Now,” Lucius said. Draco was too exhausted and emotionally distressed to try to protest again. He merely scowled and marched off, slamming the door behind him. He barely slept that night, his heart racing and practicing the conversation he was to be having with Valeria in the morning in his head. None of the scenarios in his mind resulted in a positive outcome.

Meanwhile, Valeria slept like a rock. The more comfortable bed, coupled with her sheer exhaustion put her in a death like sleep. She awoke early, and was at first startled by her surroundings, but quickly remembered as her spirits sank. She freshened up, washing away the sweat and grime of the past twenty-four hours, and made herself up seated at a proper vanity. She wore one of Narcissa’s sets of clothing, the collar high enough to nearly touch her chin. She adjusted the length magically as Narcissa was a fair bit taller than her. It was confining, but it was only temporary.

Food had appeared on the coffee table at the center of the room, but Valeria could not find her appetite, the thought of eating made her nauseous. Instead, she went to the door and tried to open it, but the lock held firm. She tried every spell she could think of to open it, but they all failed. It appeared that her instincts were correct; she was a prisoner once again. She sat down on a small sofa with her head in her hands, wondering when it would all end and she would have some semblance of freedom again, when the door slowly creaked open.

And in stepped her mother.

Valeria nearly gasped at the sight of her mother, who she had not seen since before the deaths of her father and brother. She stood, seeing her mother as someone other than the calm, serenely stern woman she remembered. Odessa Winters still wore fine clothes, her face made up to perfection, her grey hair neatly styled, but it was her eyes, her expression, that Valeria found nearly unrecognizable. Odessa’s eyes were filled with a kind of grief-stricken madness that Valeria could not place and dare not try to name.

Odessa ran to Valeria, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter as if they were about to be yanked apart again and Odessa began to weep. Valeria followed suit, overwhelmed with grief and shock. Odessa pulled back, reluctantly, and took her daughter’s face in her hands.

“You’ve grown beautifully,” she said, the type of observation a parent would make, but only after not seeing their child in a very long time. Valeria had a million questions to ask, but as she looked at her mother, she remembered her brother’s letter and the events that passed; How much pressure had been on both her and Konstantin. She was both ashamed and relieved. She could not find the words to say.

“What’s happening?” was all that Valeria managed to ask through her tears.

“There isn’t much time. You must listen to me, do you promise?” Odessa said urgently, gripping her daughter’s shoulders. Valeria nodded. “Whatever happens, you must remember what your father and I have taught you for all those years.”

“What are you sayi—?”

“Just listen, please. This war is going to get worse before it will get better, for all of us. You must perform perfectly, no matter how you actually feel. Do you understand?” Odessa rambled.

“No, I don—”

“You will. Soon, you will. You are safe now, but not out of danger. Your name, your reputation, your status, your survival hangs in the balance of how you carry yourself. You must wear the mask again and reveal nothing, ever,” Odessa said.

“What are you talking—!”

“This is _why_ your father and I impressed upon you and Konstantin the importance of maintaining appearances. You have to be perfect, Valeria. You cannot afford to waver. Do you—” Odessa said, interrupted by a knock on the door. She turned back quickly to her daughter.

“Remember the Winters’ Way. Quiet confidence, concealed strength and absolute poise. All this, by any means necessary. It’s your best chance—” The door creaked open, but no one entered. Odessa looked back at the door and then turned to embrace Valeria as tightly as she could manage. “Remember,” Odessa whispered. “By any means necessary.”

Odessa kissed Valeria on the cheek and reluctantly released her grip on her daughter. She rushed to the door, Valeria following close behind asking, yelling, questions at her mother who would not look back. Valeria made it to the door, demanding answers, when Draco stepped through the opening, nearly knocking Valeria to floor with surprise. Valeria stepped back and he calmly closed the door behind him, his eyes looking at the floor. 

There was a moment of silence between them after the door was shut. Valeria stood back, looking at him, wide eyed. And when he finally gathered the resolve to look her in the eye, there was a cascade of grief, rage and profound relief that tumbled over her. She was so overwhelmed, that she failed to immediately notice the small leather folder in his hand.

She ran to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders, and slowly, with a guilty reluctance, he embraced her back. Soft at first, but then tightly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” he repeated in a whisper, mumbling the words into her shoulder. What exactly he was apologizing for, Valeria did not dream to hazard a guess. All she could focus upon was the instant, though small, comfort of being held by him again. The very touch she had relied upon for nearly the entirety of last year. But though their bodies had collided again, Valeria could feel his distance. Something was wrong, but she refused to acknowledge it. Stronger than ever, the feeling of never wanting to leave overcame her need of answers and she dared not ask so as to ruin this, hoping that her suspicion would dissipate.

Draco was the first to pull away, tracing his free hand down her arm, looking her up and down, though his expression was strained.

“Why’d you leave me there?” she asked, the question that was the source of her rage at him for the past few months. He shook his head.

“And bring you here? After I…failed? I couldn’t risk it,” he whispered with guilt. “What they did to you on the tower…after what I put you through…I couldn’t.” His hand moved down her arm and stopped at her wrist. He felt the ward that she wore over the sleeve of his own mother’s clothes and looked down at it. “You’re still wearing it.”

“You told me to,” she said, studying his expression. Her response appeared to pain him further. “Draco, what’s happening? Why am I locked in here?” she asked, begged really. He didn’t immediately answer, he only curled his lip inward as if trying to find words. “What’s wrong?”

He released her wrist and took a step back, gesturing to the sofa. “Have a seat. We need to talk.” Valeria hesitantly obliged him and sat down, Draco following suit, facing her as he sat down beside her. “After…after Dumbledore a decision was made that was…out of all of our control,” Draco began. His expression morphed from shame to disgust as Valeria listened intently, her heart pounding so hard that it caused her pain. He placed the folder on the coffee table beside them in the center.

“Draco—”

“Please, just let me finish,” he said, defeated. “As a _reward_ for…what I did and because of your help, it was decided that you and I…you and I will…be married.”

Valeria felt faint, her heart skipped a beat and felt as though it was about to stop beating entirely. She searched his face for any hint of insincerity or deception in his countenance. She darted to the folder and opened it, finding only one single document. Her eyes darted around the page as she read.

_Intention to Wed_

_This document certifies that Draco Lucius Malfoy and Valeria Terpsichore Winters, with full understanding and control of their respective faculties, give their consent to be joined in matrimony and there exists no obstacle, legal or otherwise, that could inhibit or prevent the event of their union._

_By Authority of the Ministry of Magic, United Kingdom_

She looked back to Draco, who looked at the document with defeat and shame, remaining still where he sat.

“This…this isn’t possible,” Valeria muttered in disbelief.

“It is. It will happen soon,” Draco said shamefully.

“When?!” Valeria yelled. “We’re not even out of school—”

“One week,” Draco whispered. Valeria’s breath hastened and her chest felt as though it were about to cave in on itself. Draco reached out for her trembling hand in response, but she yanked it away from him, clumsily getting to her feet.

“I refuse!” she shouted as she nearly panted in panic. Draco shot to a stand and went to her.

“You can’t!” he said. “This was ordered by the Dark Lord himself!”

“Then he can kill me!” Valeria cried.

“It wouldn’t just be _you_ ,” Draco said through his teeth. She did not have to ask who he meant; both of them and their families. Draco tried to collect himself. “This is going to happen, Valeria. No matter how hard we refuse. One of them will just use the Imperius Curse or worse if they have to. You know that.”

“This is a _reward_?!” Valeria shouted.

“That’s how he said it! Do you think I’m enjoying this?! That I’m looking _forward_ to this?!” Draco argued, insulted by Valeria’s implication. “You know just as damn well as I do that is punishment!”

“For what!? What have I possibly done to deserve this? All I ever did was help you murder Dumbledore!”

“But I didn’t kill him, did I?” Draco said with some disdain. “It’s not only about you. He knows this hurts me, and our families too. We’re being punished for their failures too, don’t you understand? We’re being used as an example and if we refuse, he will make an example of what happens when he’s disobeyed.”

Unable to find words and her body so shaken, Valeria descended to the floor in a helpless heap, holding her head in her hands once more. This was her mother’s warning. This was why Odessa demanded that Valeria be on her most perfect behavior, Valeria realized. She could never forgive them, any of them, for ruining what was left of her young life after having chipped away at her freedom, piece by painful piece.

She heard Draco move as he went to the desk in the corner to fetch a quill and ink bottle. He went to her and reached to help her to her feet, but she pulled herself away from him, ordering him not to touch her. He crouched down to her level and spoke quietly, almost eerily calm.

“I tried. I really did, but there’s no way out of this. We’re trapped. Valeria, look at me,” he said. Look at him she did, with disgust, rage and immeasurable betrayal. “I promise I’ll never hurt you. Y—You don’t have to be afraid of me in this—”

“Your word is worthless,” she spat. She could see plainly on his face the pain her words inflicted, but she was far too angry to spare any sympathy for him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, hiding his feelings the best he could. He stood and went to table. He signed his name on his respective line and dated his signature. Valeria watched him do it and glared at him through the tears in her eyes. “Sign.”

She looked at his stern, weary, face and saw no hint of wavering. She waited for him to say something; Offer some other idea or plan to avoid this fate, but none came. He was still and sure, no matter how much it pained him. In her heart of hearts, despite her cruel words, she knew he was right, and that was the only thing that brought her to feet and allowed her to sign her life away to Draco Malfoy.

She looked down at her shaky signature, a result of her trembling hand, in defeat before Draco blew on the ink and closed the leather folder over it. He reached into his pocket and presented his hand to her. She looked to see a shining ring with a purple jewel crowning the silver colored band,

“Your mother wanted you to have this,” he said softly. She just wanted him to leave and so without argument, she reached for his hand, but he moved put the ring on her finger himself. She shoved his hand away and took the ring from him, not looking at her hands as she slid the ring onto the proper finger. She immediately felt the weight of it, like a great iron shackle. Draco did not protest, but took the folder with him as he made his way to the door and Valeria sat back down on the dark leather sofa.

“You can walk about the Manor now. Some places are off limits, but that’s not just you. Most of it, and all the grounds, are open to you,” he said, with no response from Valeria. He turned to face her. “I can come back later, if you want.”

“Just go,” she whispered, finding his presence unbearable.

“The announcement has already run in the paper,” he said coldly. “Everyone will know soon if they don’t already.”

“Go!” Valeria shouted. Draco didn’t waste another second and finally made himself scarce. She curled up on the sofa, her chin resting on her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very long and I apologize, but there was a lot of housekeeping to get through. Thanks for sticking with me!


	9. Overwhelmed

_"It's all a blur," she told him._

_"I remember every second," he said._

_*****_

“Mum!” Ginny shouted over breakfast, startling Molly into nearly dropping her cup of tea.

“What is it?” Arthur asked in great concern. Ginny slammed morning edition of _The Prophet_ on the table and pointed at an article. The news had been a chaotic mess as Voldemort had taken over every power within this part of the wizarding world. Ginny’s parents had warned her about the unreliability of the paper, but she still scoured it daily for any news regarding Harry, Ron and Hermione. Arthur and Molly leaned over the table and with worried expressions read what Ginny was pointing to, speechless.

 _Engagement Announcement_

_Mrs. Odessa Winters of Gwynedd, Wales is pleased to announce the engagement of her daughter, Valeria Winters, to Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy of Wiltshire._

_Valeria is moving into her final year of schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her academic and extracurricular achievements have made her an esteemed addition to House Slytherin._

_Draco will also begin his final year at the same institution at the start of this academic year. He has achieved the status of prefect as well as Seeker on House Slytherin’s accomplished Quidditch team. He has faithfully served the greater cause in addition to his scholastic accomplishments._

_Valeria is the heiress to the esteemed Winters bloodline, the daughter of the late and dearly missed Hieronymus Winters, a man of great renown in the wizarding world. She is the sister of the late Konstantin Winters, who in his tragically short life, was instrumental in organizing international efforts for the greater cause._

_Draco is the heir of the Malfoy family and grandson of the late Abraxas Malfoy, known for his great influence on the Ministry of Magic in his time._

_A private ceremony has been planned for the coming weekend._

“We have to do something!” Ginny insisted, looking at her parents’ expressions. Molly had her hand over mouth and Arthur looked dismayed in defeat.

“There’s nothing we can do, Ginny,” Molly said regretfully.

“She was on our side two days ago! You know she doesn’t want this; They must have forced her—”

“Valeria is a very capable girl,” Arthur said, trying to believe his own words. “If anyone can make it through this, she can.”

“This is disgusting,” Ginny said, crossing her arms tightly in her seat.

“It is,” Arthur said. “It’s vile.”

The next morning in Wiltshire, several owls had been rapping at the glass of the tall, stately windows of the guest-room since the previous day. Each one carried with it a letter from one of her friends, full of questions and confusion, no doubt in response to the announcement that ran in the paper. Valeria had magically burned her own copy after reading those thinly veiled lies. She opened yet another letter a muddy brown owl had delivered.

 _Valeria,_

_I saw the announcement in the paper. Are you mad? You’re only seventeen! And after all he put you through last year?! Please write to me immediately and tell me what’s going on. Please don’t disappear on me again…_

_Yours,_

_Daphne_

Valeria crumpled the letter in her fist and held it to her forehead. She hadn’t the faintest idea how she could respond even if she wanted to. Although communication amongst her closest cohort, those sympathetic to the Dark Lord, was absolutely permitted, Valeria was not naïve enough to think that her letters would not be monitored in some fashion. Telling Daphne, or any of her friends the truth was too risky. But Valeria did not have it in her to write to Daphne some nonsense professing her sudden and overwhelming affection for Draco, so strong that they were compelled to marry immediately. Valeria knew that Daphne was far too smart, too stubborn and nosey, to buy any excuse resembling that for a second.

Valeria sighed and placed it with the others beside her largely ignored breakfast. She had refused to leave her room and barely ate since she signed the document. Draco had yet to return for a visit. She did not expect him to come to her after their argument, nor did she particularly care to see him. She wondered if she wouldn’t see him until Saturday and the thought amused her slightly, in a rather dark way.

There was a knock on the door and Valeria called for them to enter, reluctantly. In walked Narcissa with all of her stern elegance, carrying herself as though nothing was amiss. Valeria knew Draco’s mother better than that and could read the woman’s face, and it was the pitiful look in Narcissa’s eye that told her she hated this almost as much as Valeria did.

“I apologize for intruding after your ordeal,” Narcissa began. “But I was hoping you’ve recovered enough to join me. There’s much to plan and your input is needed. Priscilla Garnswick is set to arrive soon for your fitting.”

The way Narcissa spoke, Valeria knew that refusing wasn’t an option. Valeria nodded and stood, following Narcissa down a sitting room that she knew to be Narcissa’s favorite. It was the room that Narcissa and Odessa would spend hours talking and gossiping in while the older men of their respective families shut themselves up elsewhere. Valeria had seldom been allowed inside for long and Draco had always been charged with entertaining Valeria as a guest. A table was set up with two chairs on one side and a single one opposite them. Off to one side were stacks of papers that Valeria figured were Narcissa’s options for the wedding. Although a hastened affair, Narcissa could always be trusted to make an event as grand as she could; She and Odessa certainly had that in common.

Just as the two sat down, a house elf Valeria did not recognize entered and sheepishly announce the arrival of Priscilla Garnswick, and soon the woman herself, tall and quite fashionably dressed, approached. As Valeria stood to shake her hand, she remembered her from Twilfitt and Tattings. Priscilla had always seemed to have her nose upturned at everyone and everything, barely breaking a smile. Now she was grinning ear to ear but it was plain to see the fear in the woman’s eyes. 

“My, you’re lovely,” Priscilla said. “You are going to be the most beautiful bride.” The comment made Valeria’s stomach turn. They sat and Priscilla removed several drawings from her bag and set them out on the table. “These are some options I’ve drawn up for your big day, I can make any stylistic adjustments you like. I also have these fabrics samples for you to look at.” Priscilla placed the fabric samples that corresponded to each drawing.

Valeria looked at the drawings, the figures enchanted to move slowly on the pages. The first was enormous atrocity resembling an engorged ball gown and Valeria could see how that amount of thick, heavy fabric would swallow her whole if she were to wear it. The second was a strange number that appeared layered from head-to-toe; The figure in the drawing look like it was covered with ruffled feathers. The third was rather simple: Long with a tasteful, but not matronly neckline in off-white with a long cape that also served as sleeves. The fabric was heavy, but felt breathable and had a little shine to it. It was plain, but it was certainly the best of the bunch.

“I rather like this one,” Valeria said, looking to Narcissa for approval.

Narcissa shrugged. “It’s your choice, dear.”

“A fine one at that. Very elegant and timeless,” Priscilla said. “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s excellent taste.” Valeria smiled in feigned amusement. Priscilla magicked a pedestal into the room and called for Valeria to stand on it to take measurements. Valeria stood, following every polite command, being hugged by measuring tapes at every angle imaginable. She let her mind drift as the other women conversed until it was over.

“I trust you can get this finished quickly,” Narcissa said as Priscilla packed up her supplies.

“Oh, of course,” Priscilla said. “I’ve made this my top priority. When I’m finished, I guarantee he is going to fall in love with you all over again.” The comment was well-intentioned, but it hit Valeria like a strike to the gut. After Priscilla left, Narcissa sat Valeria down to go over other weddings plans. They made their way through the guest list, inviting all of upper wizarding society to witness her showcase humiliation. They went through décor, favoring a simple yet tasteful style. The invitations were next of course, and once again Valeria put very little effort into the choice opting for a simple font on plain parchment:

 _Mrs. Odessa Winters, speaking also for the late Mr. Hieronymous Winters, requests the honour of your presence at the marriage of her daughter_

_Miss Valeria Terpsichore_

_To_

_Master Draco Lucius Malfoy_

_On Saturday the Ninth of August_

_At Six O’Clock in the Evening_

~

_Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England_

_Dinner and Reception to Follow_

Finally, they got to flower arrangements after much back and forth. Valeria could hardly stand it, drifting back and forth between ire and numbness.

“Mrs. Malfoy, shouldn’t Draco be involved in this?” Valeria asked.

“I think it’s appropriate for you to call me Narcissa now,” Narcissa said. “And Draco…he’s elected to leave these decisions up to you. I’m afraid he’s resting at the moment. He had a rough one the other night; The Dark Lord summoned his assistance in a…disciplinary matter.”

Valeria avoided the urge to roll her eyes. Draco was running from this too as he did with everything, but she didn’t know what else she expected. Narcissa’s tone describing the reason for Draco’s absence caught her attention, however. Valeria knew enough by now to hear the pain and worry for her son in the woman’s voice, electing not to push the matter any further.

“How about this for your bouquet?” Narcissa asked, abruptly changing the subject and sliding yet another picture to Valeria. Examining the picture, it was a neatly arranged bouqet of white roses and small green flower buds, but it was the large lilac blooms that caught Valeria’s eye.

“Lilacs…” Valeria thought aloud.

“Draco mentioned that they were your favorite,” Narcissa said. Valeria looked at Narcissa, surprised that Draco had remembered that little detail in the midst of everything else. Valeria settled for that option and they wrapped up wedding matters for the time being. “Your things have likely arrived in your room by now. Fortunately, _that_ family didn’t put up a fuss in returning them. I would not unpack too much, however. You and Draco will move to a more suitable room once you’re married.”

Valeria’s heart sank. There was some desperate hope within her that this would be a wedding, a marriage, only in name. Sharing a room…sharing a bed proved to her that her fears were coming true. She bid Narcissa farewell and returned to her room, struck by dread and found her belongings neatly stacked near the large bed. She immediately changed out of Narcissa’s borrowed clothes and put on her own, which was a small comfort. She went to organize her things for a while, but found the task more difficult than she expected.

Her school things and old fond memories contained with the various containers of her belongings haunted her like horrid ghosts of times that could never and would never be again, if they were ever real at all. Photos of her friends, her school supplies, family photos and trinkets were all sullied by the hand that wore the engagement ring on her finger. Deep, deep within, she found her brother’s final letter to her once again, sitting on the floor to reread it as she had done so much already.

 _I know too that you are fond of Draco Malfoy. I have no personal qualm with the boy, but I have seen his father’s dealings and witnessed his cruelty, and Draco’s eagerness worries me. Do not trust him._

She put her face in her hands, reading those words. She hated that Konstantin had been right, once again, in the one matter she believed him false. She should never have trusted Draco at all, perhaps she would be somewhere happier and far away by now if she hadn’t. Konstantin’s instincts were right, but not in the way he perhaps expected. She was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door and quickly shoved the letter away at the bottom of a trunk and called for the disturber to enter.

Draco opened the door and walked in with long confident strides, looking as though he was trying to hide a scowl. Valeria stood and folded her arms and glowered at him in return as he went to the coffee table at the center of the room and dropped a few pieces of folded parchment onto it. Valeria did not move from her spot, nor did he say a word, only looking at her expectedly.

“Good afternoon to you too, Draco,” Valeria said with nasty sarcasm. “To what do I owe this lovely visit?”

“These,” he said gesturing to the papers on the table.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked, only angering him further.

“Letters from your friends; Daphne, Tracey, even Parkinson, all asking _me_ about you and why you haven’t responded to them,” he said.

Valeria sighed. “I was getting around to it. I’ve been a bit _preoccupied_ , if you care to know.”

“And they’re all asking what’s wrong with _me_ and ‘how could I do this,’ and other goddamned nonsense!” Draco said.

“I am so sorry that this is just so inconvenient for you. Do please go on!” Valeria spat back.

“Like you would give a shit if I bothered,” Draco said. “Have you thought of what I’ve had to go through with this? I’ve known about this for months and do you think it’s somehow less hard for me?! We are both in this and I will not have anyone else thinking that you’re somehow the only victim here!”

Valeria took a step forward in her rage. “I never thought about you?! All I did last year was worry and mope and fear for your goddamn life every single day! I did _everything_ you asked of me and you were the one who threw it all away; every promise you ever made, that night on the tower! _You_ were the one who had a choice!”

“A choice?! A choice between watching our families and _you_ , be killed in front of me before it was my turn? You call that a choice?!”

“I know what Dumbledore offered you on that tower!” Valeria shouted. “And I know you were about to take it, but you were too much of a sniveling little coward of a _boy_ , weren’t you?!”

Draco took a few steps forward, his eyes filled with fear and ire the likes Valeria had never seen. “Don’t you _ever_ say that again. Don’t you even _dare_! If anyone hears that, it will be both our heads,” he hissed. “And I am _not_ a coward.”

“Is that so?” Valeria asked sarcastically. “The one who hides in bathrooms to cry with ghosts and runs back to mummy or daddy the second things get too hard—”

That was enough to set Draco off. “And what about _you_? You never even had the guts to choose a side! You pretended to be nice to everyone, so everyone would like you and you could just sail right through, too scared to disappoint your fucking fami—”

“You’re wrong!” she shouted. “I did do things to disappoint them, I was just better at hiding it because I wasn’t the _idiot_ laughing at Diggory’s funeral or whining about mudbloods for _years_!”

“What are you talking about?”

Wracked by anger, her rage overtook her wisdom. “Before Potter’s interview came out in that magazine, I was a part of Dumbledore’s Army! _I_ was the one who caused the scene that allowed them to escape Umbridge’s office and I was never kidnapped. I was in on the plan to get to the Department of Mysteries up until Konstantin and my father showed up. I was only pretending to be their hostage the entire time!”

Draco looked at her, disappointed and dumbfounded, trying to put the pieces together in his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You think I could trust you with that? You’re mad!”

“So what? Are you one of _them_ now?!”

“Of course not! All they did was toss me and back forth, treating me like I had a disease, but I can’t say you’ve done much better than they did.”

Draco ran his hand through his white blond hair, quite visibly distressed, and stepped closer to her, looking her in the eyes, his eyes wild with a mixture of emotions that Valeria could not identify, but she knew that they scared her. “You will never speak of that again. Ever. And you will not call me a fucking coward. Do you understand?”

“You do not give _me_ orders!” Valeria shouted. Draco turned and with one explosion of movement, kicked the coffee table over with a cry of rage, spilling the teapot, cups and tray they sat on along with scattering the letters over the floor. Valeria was terrified now and drew her wand, grasping it tight and holding it close to her side.

“If it keeps you safe, then yes I do!” he bellowed, seething, his face was pink and his hair was disheveled. “You can’t get it through your head, can you?! I’m _responsible_ for you now. I’m the one with the Dark Mark! Every word that comes out of your mouth, everything you do; it all falls on _my head_ first! You do not get to make those choices anymore and I _hate_ it just as much as you do, but you do not get to pretend that you’re the only victim in this!”

When his rant was over he stopped, his chest heaving, and he looked at Valeria. He must have seen the fear on her face, not from Voldemort or the war; she was afraid of _him_. His eyes glanced around from her to the wand in her hand, then down to the mess he made of the table, tea soaking into the ornamental rug from the shattered pot.

“Valeria…I’m…I’m so sor—” he said softly.

“Get. Out…” she said, low and threatening. He drew his wand and pointed it at the mess.

“At least let me clea—”

“Get out!” she shouted again, and Draco obeyed without hesitation, turning away in shame, unable to bear to look at her again after what he did. When he was gone, all Valeria could do was lie down and bury her face in a pillow.

Despite his lack of appetite, Draco was sure to join his parents at dinner in the small, informal, dining room used for family meals. His mother had insisted on them regularly having meals together, desperately trying to maintain some form of normality. Her efforts had yet to be entirely successful, but it was a small thing to do to try and make his mother more at ease. His father was in a foul mood once again, having been tense ever since his escape from Azkaban and the Dark Lord’s treatment of the Malfoy family. Draco had learned to keep his mouth shut when it came to his father.

“Where’s Valeria?” Lucius asked as they ate. “She should start being here for family meals.”

“Did you invite her like I asked you to, Draco?” Narcissa asked. Draco swallowed.

“I didn’t get the chance,” Draco admitted.

“And what does that mean?” Lucius prodded.

“We had an…argument. A heated one,” Draco said carefully.

“About what?” Naricssa asked.

“It was something stupid. I don’t even remember what started it,” Draco lied. “She’s just very stressed.”

“Well, that’s to be expected,” Lucius said, sounding relieved.

“You’ll apologize to her later,” Narcissa said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Draco said.

“Listen to your mother, Draco.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Draco admitted.

“How do you know?” Lucius asked.

“Her ordering me out of the room was a hint!” Draco said. Before his father could argue back, his mother interrupted.

“Enough,” she said calmly. She leaned over and spoke softly. “Neither of you can afford to be at each other’s throats. Not now. You must do whatever you need to do to keep the peace. You will apologize tonight; However you have to do that.”

Hours passed upstairs in Valeria’s guestroom. She had fallen asleep, waking up thinking the argument with Draco was some awful dream until she saw the coffee table, still kicked over. She sighed and with a wand-wave, the table wa back on its feet, the items on it repaired and neatly back in their previous positions. She couldn’t fix the pit in her stomach. She remembered being so close to him, caring for him so much, perhaps even loving him a little, if she were honest. But this was not the classmate, friend or boyfriend she knew. Not even last year had she seen him coming apart at the seams like this. He could be foul, she knew, especially when they were a little younger, but she never imagined his rage turned on her.

She too regretted what she said. She had been too preoccupied with her own distress that she hadn’t spared much thought to his, but she was at a loss for what else to do. She was barely managing on her own and taking on another’s worries felt impossible. This thing, this marriage looming over them, was, in all of its irony, tearing them apart once more. And they had only been reunited a few days…

Yet another knock on the door, soft and slow, startled her from her thoughts. The door opened slowly and, of course, it had to be Draco step in, gently shutting the door behind him and leaning against the door.

“Can we talk?” he asked, looking down guiltily.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Valeria said flatly.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I’m the one who should do all the talking anyway. But not here. I want to show you something.”

“Anything you have to say can be said right here,” Valeria argued.

He sighed. “I don’t want to have another shit conversation in this room. Just, come on. Please?”

He looked pathetic, and for Valeria that was enough to indulge his request. The truth that she refused to admit to herself was that she wanted to be around him. Yet again, he felt to be the one constant, the one familiar thing she could put at least a little faith in. She wanted it to be like how it was, on some level. She walked with him in silence through the meandering halls of the Manor, up more stairs, and down more austere halls lined with paintings and portraits of ancestors and figures no one remembered the names of. Draco stopped at a double door and pushed them open. He gestured her to enter first, but she refused, so with a sigh he entered while she followed in behind. He took the liberty of shutting the doors behind them.

She looked around the room. It was a grand bedroom, almost gaudy. Massive, with three large sofas and a table in its center, a chandelier hovered above filled with lit candles. An obscenely large four-poster bed, complete with curtains was in the back of the room before floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out upon far end of the Manor’s grounds. Valeria turned back to Draco.

“Is this…?”

He nodded gravely. “Come Saturday, this will be ours. You can change it however you want, I couldn't care less. We won’t be here much longer anyway, with the start of term...”

“What does this have to do with what you did?” Valeria snapped.

“Right. To the point, then,” he said. He walked slowly toward her. “I am trying to do everything I can do right by you. You don’t deserve this, any of it, or me, and I know that. We’re not getting out of this no matter what either of us do or say.”

She looked up at him, studying him as he spoke. He was, from what she could tell, entirely genuine, but a bigger room with a husband she didn’t ask for was hardly a solution and it certainly wasn’t an apology.

“What I did,” he continued. “That was not…Things have happened that I can’t…I can’t get out of my head and I just took it out on you. I’m not making an excuse—”

“What do you mean ‘things have happened’?” Valeria asked, suddenly alarmed by his tone.

He curled his lip inward and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “The night you were brought here, Rowle and Dolohov went after Potter and failed. They informed the Dark Lord and he summoned me and had me…” Draco shut his eyes tight and Valeria rushed to him instinctively, grabbing his arms gently.

“He told me to use the Cruciatus Curse on them,” he admitted nearly in tears. “They wouldn’t stop screaming…all I could remember was what Carrow did to you on the Astronomy Tower and I can’t get it out of my head!”

Even the very name of the curse made Valeria cringe. While the pain was long gone, her body, her mind, would remember it forever. She tried to shush Draco.

“It’s not your fault. He made you—”

“You know better than that,” he said. “You have to want to do it, and I did it.”

“Draco…I’m sorry, I had no idea…”

“No, I’m here to apologize to you,” he said. He collected himself and reached for her, taking her by the upper arm gently. “I can’t forget them walking you to the edge of the Tower, and watching you ignore me screaming at them to stop. You, screaming on the ground under the Cruciatus Curse…I can’t…” He looked at her in the eye, his hand slowly going to gently touch the side of her face. She looked up at him and took in what she saw for the first time since they had reunited. He was taller again, or at least she thought, but he looked so weary and pale, healthier at least than in school, but it wasn’t much of an improvement. “I have to keep you safe. I don't care about the rest of it, who you did or didn't help with what. That doesn't matter. Just keeping you alive...That's it."

“If we have to do this, then I’m in it with you,” she said.

He shook his head. “This is a sham, you know that, right? It’s just to punish us, to make an example of us. The Dark Lord doesn’t care, we just have to pretend—”

“I can do that…I can try. I’ll do what I have to,” Valeria said.

“You know I don’t want this, right? I never wanted this,” Draco whispered.

“I know,” she replied. He ran her fingers through her hair a little and Valeria could feel her heart pick up pace, for what reason she didn’t fully grasp. But she looked at him and saw him not for what he was, but who he was to her. The person who, through it all, had done everything in his measly power to be there. So as he looked her in the eyes, with such pain and longing for something better, there was little resolve left in her to not give in. Suddenly, but gently, he pressed his lips to hers, and for a moment she forgot herself.

But she remembered the room in which they stood and the ring on her finger. She pulled away and Draco stepped backwards, guilty once more.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was…I don’t know why…”

“I’m not mad,” she said. “It’s just…it’s too much.”

“I know. I know.” He said, running his hand through his hair again. An awkward silence washed over the room before Draco broke it again. “I’ll take you back to your room.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was waaaaay too long, I'm sorry! There wasn't a nice place to break this up. Sorry for any weird typos. I'll go back and fix 'em later. Thanks for sticking around.


	10. All In

_"And why the sudden change, Mr. Malfoy? Trying to save your own skin?"_

_"What little honor I have left is for her and for her alone," he said_

*****

“Wait, what about Valeria? Is she still with the Weasleys?” Hermione asked Lupin as he updated the trio on the events of the past few days. Lupin looked somber, shaking his head.

“They took her just after you disappeared,” Lupin said. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand.

“She helped us…That spell…” Ron thought aloud.

“Dark magic,” Lupin said with a nod. “I only caught a few glances, but she conjured those shadows to hide you three from the Death Eaters. That much was clear.”

“So she sacrificed herself,” Harry said guiltily.

“Effectively, whether she intended to or not. There’s worse news yet,” Lupin said, flipping the page of _The Daily Prophet_ he had been showing them and the trio looked over to read the headline Lupin pointed to,

 _Love in a Time of War and Rebellion: The Incredible Story of Draco Malfoy and Valeria Winters_

_Having announced their engagement, the wedding of Master Malfoy and Miss Winters, scheduled for the ninth of August, is a surprise to young witches and wizards everywhere. During such tumultuous times, when rebels seek to destroy the ways of our world, one would think marriage would be the last thing on these young people’s minds. But as Mrs. Odessa Winters explains, the couple has elected to make a commitment honoring the ancient and noble traditions of the wizarding world and the union of magical families._

_“Valeria has been through a terrible ordeal,” Mrs. Winters explains. “After being safely returned from her captors, she has found great comfort with Draco, who has been her dear friend since they were children.”_

_According to Mrs. Winters, the two have decided to present themselves as an example to their peers by joining their families in the traditional way; A pureblooded witch and wizard marrying young so as to ensure the survival and prosperity of both their esteemed bloodlines. Both parties intend to carry on their obligations to the cause while fulfilling their duties to our ways and to their familial legacies._

_“They are overjoyed!” Mrs. Winters further explains. “They see their marriage as a triumph for the cause, not a detriment. It is their prayer that this news brings some much-needed hope to all who are fearful in these most trying times.”_

_Wise words, indeed. We at the_ Prophet _are over the moon for these two and wish them the best in everything._

Hermione recoiled as they finished reading. “They can’t do this!”

“That slimy bastard!” Ron spat.

“They can and they have, Hermione,” Lupin said. “For what it’s worth, it likely isn’t up to Malfoy either.”

“At least we know she’s alive,” Harry said, shamefully, feeling terribly guilty as if he had some part in this, though he knew that Valeria’s fate was not his fault.

“Bloody good that’s doing for her,” Ron said. “Wasn't she cursing his name just a couple months ago and now she has to _marry_ him?! Isn’t that what happened, Harry?”

Harry did not want to remember the night of Dumbledore’s murder again, but he nodded. He remembered Valeria’s anger after Malfoy fled the scene with Snape and the other Death Eaters. Knowing her, the little that he did, Harry could not fathom any circumstance in which Valeria would voluntarily agree to this.

“Malfoy may be terrible, but I don’t think he would actually hurt her,” Hermione said. “I just don’t understand why…”

“Malfoy was trying to help her, on the tower that night,” Harry said. “It was her life on the line too. There must be some other reason. Some kind of sick plan or something.”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Ron sighed. “He’s a Death Eater and he’s hurting her just by doing this. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to force her to his side.”

“We cannot know what side she’s on,” Lupin said.

“Yes, we can. She helped us escape,” Hermione said.

“Then what is she planning on doing now? She can’t be married to a Death Eater and still be on our side,” Ron said.

“She’s always toed the line. There’s no reason to think she wouldn’t do so again,” Hermione said.

A noble looking owl tapped on Valeria’s window carrying quite the stack of parchment. She fed it before sending it away. She opened the first envelope and took in the letter.

_Dear Miss V. Winters_

_Enclosed you will find your supply for your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please be aware that attendance is mandatory for all students able to prove required blood status. Be advised that Muggle Studies has been made a required course for all students._

_An additional note that no accommodations will be made to facilitate your married status this term. You and your husband will still be required to stay in your respective dormitories while you attend classes._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_

_Headmaster_

Valeria felt both confused and relieved by the letter. She hadn’t even thought of Hogwarts, too distracted and troubled by her fast approaching wedding. She was relieved that she’d be able to stay in the dormitory with her friends, like a normal student. But Snape’s role as Headmaster alone implied that Hogwarts would be far from normal. She looked to the other envelope and read through the school supplies she’d be needing, much of it being standard, but when she found the booklist, it dawned on her exactly what kind of school year this was going to be. Required texts included _Advanced Methods of Dark Sorcery_ , _Muggles and their Atrocities: An Anthropological Assessment, Magical Philosophy: A Treatise on how to Protect the Wizarding World,_ amongst others. She set it aside when Draco knocked on her door and entered.

“Did you get your Hogwarts letter too?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “We’ll go…after.” Valeria could tell by the way he shifted his weight uncomfortably that he meant after the wedding. He could hardly bring himself to say it and she appreciated that, as she had trouble saying it aloud too. Draco cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

She nodded and followed him out the door into the hall. They walked side-by-side through the long, wide halls of the Manor and the tension radiating from Draco was enough for Valeria to clench her jaw. They hadn’t discussed what happened in the _other_ bedroom and Valeria had no desire to talk about it at all. Only for a couple brief periods, back at school, had they ever been an actual item, so to speak. What they were, what they could even be, now was hard to comprehend. Besides, she didn’t even want it. Not now and not like this.

“Snape is Headmaster,” Valeria said, shattering the silence that plagued them.

“I’m aware,” Draco said as if it was old news.

“Are there going to be a lot of changes at Hogwarts this year?” she asked after carefully considering what she would say next.

Draco looked at her, his face pale with exhaustion and perhaps fear as well. “You already know the answer to that.”

She knew that Draco knew more than she did, though not as much as the other Death Eaters thanks to his mother’s protection. She doubted that he would tell her all now, considering her precarious position or perhaps for the simple reason that the Dark Lord simply did not care about Valeria beyond her capacity as a pawn. She figured there was truth in both suggestions. Regardless, she held off on questioning Draco as it was far too dangerous within these walls.

For although Malfoy Manor was the seat of the Dark Lord’s operations, she hadn’t seen much of a stir beyond her arrival. She knew they were keeping her out of it, the powers at be, and she was smart enough not to challenge them and lose what little freedom she currently held. Still, she remembered Ollivander locked in the cellar with her, who she had left behind. She hoped he was still there; at least he would be alive.

Arriving at the small dining room the Malfoys used for family meals, Draco was diligent in going through the motions of their pseudo-courtship. He pulled the chair out for Valeria to sit, but his expression was completely void of feeling. She dutifully followed his lead as she joined Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius was looking more worse for wear than Valeria had ever seen him. Never would she have imagined him to appear so haggard and desperate looking, as if he were seconds away from coming apart at the seams.

“Thank you for joining us, Valeria,” Narcissa said, smiling though it was a decidedly false smile. Valeria nodded in response. Food soon appeared on the table, no doubt the work of the house elf that she had only met once. Lucius had decided to be stricter with his servants after losing that one to Potter all those years ago. Draco ranted for days on end about that one when it happened.

“RSVPs have started returning. The Crabbes, Goyles, Nott, and everyone who’s anyone it seems has agreed to come. Should be quite the event,” Narcissa said, referring to the bitter upcoming nuptuals. Valeria suddenly lost her appetite, gripping her fork with an iron grasp. The thought of her schoolfellows bearing witness to her humiliation made her stomach turn. “The RSVP from the Greengrasses came in just this morning.”

“Daphne’s coming?” Valeria blurted out in surprise. Narcissa gave her an apologetic look.

“I’m afraid not. Given the…circumstances, most are finding it better to leave their children at home,” Narcissa explained. Oddly, the news relieved Valeria.

“And I trust you received your Hogwarts letters,” Lucius said. Draco nodded.

“We’ll go to Diagon Alley next week,” Draco said, taking the lead.

“Good,” Lucius responded. “Best to avoid that gossip pit for the moment.”

“And today you will both get your final fittings for Saturday. A little hastier than I would like, but so are the times,” Narcissa said. Valeria’s stomach lurched again and Draco had quietly stopped eating. Narcissa ignored their reactions, if she noticed at all. “Valeria, you’ll be up first.”

Valeria did not pay much attention to the conversation as the meal continued and eventually ended. The thought of trying on her wedding garb made her skin crawl. Secretly and futilely, Valeria had hoped something would happen to stop this; Someone would realize how poor of an idea this was or some event would postpone the marriage and buy her time. With each passing minute she was increasingly dismayed that her fate was set in stone.

“How do you like it?” Priscilla asked with a big, hopeful smile while presenting the garment to Valeria later that day. Valeria took some of the fabric between her fingers. It was fine work, that much she could tell, smooth as cream to the touch and the light in the room seemed to make it shine all on its own.

“It’s lovely,” Valeria said to Priscilla’s great relief.

“Let’s see how it fits before making a final decision,” Narcissa said, seated with a cup of tea off in the grand parlor room. Valeria held back a gulp.

“Of course, madam,” Priscilla said, picking up the dress. “Come along, dear.” Valeria followed Priscilla behind the wooden dressing screen that had been setup. With a gentle hand, Priscilla assisted Valeria with getting into the thing and used her wand to snap the many buttons together at the back. Valeria felt sealed inside of it, more like a coffin than a gown. “How does it feel?”

It fit like a glove, but Valeria still felt like she was suffocating. “It feels perfect,” Valeria responded, returning to her default, unwavering politeness that her parents had so long drilled into her. Priscilla gathered the bottom of the dress, which wasn’t very long, fortunately, to aid Valeria in walking to the pedestal to present the dress to Narcissa. Valeria felt like she was being showcased as an item in a shop window would be, but maintained her poise.

“Oh, that is gorgeous,” Narcissa said pleasantly, approaching Valeria and inspecting Priscilla’s craftsmanship. Priscilla conjured the large, full length mirrors she had brought to the Manor to stand before Valeria and for the first time, the latter saw herself. Valeria’s eyes watered some when she looked at herself. The dress was admittedly exquisite. Cream colored and shining, with tasteful matte-gold beading running along the high neckline and down the sides. The sleeves were fashioned out of the cape that was attached at the shoulders and her arms came out in the slits sewn into them. It was a gown that any bride would feel honored in wearing.

But Valeria felt alien inside of it. It felt like being tied with restraints and she hardly recognized herself. It felt so wrong, almost vulgar, like she was a child playing dress-up in some other woman’s robes.

“Are you alright?” Priscilla asked, noticing Valeria’s distress. Valeria forced a smile.

“I’m just happy. It’s perfect, it really is,” Valeria responded.

“And the veil?” Narcissa asked. Priscilla nodded and rushed to pull the veil from the collection of things she had brought with her. Valeria had forgotten all about the possibility of a veil. Priscilla gently clipped the long sheer cloth into Valeria’s hair and straightened it out. Looking in the mirror, it just made Valeria feel even smaller.

“You have the final say, Valeria. Priscilla can adjust anything that isn’t to your liking,” Narcissa said. Valeria wanted to see the damned thing burned.

“I think it’s just what I wanted,” Valeria said, to Priscilla’s relief. Narcissa and Priscilla talked back and forth, while Valeria tried to keep her eyes away from the mirror in front of her. After what felt like eons, Priscilla finally assisted Valeria out of the ensemble behind the dress screen.

“There’s also a little pocket sewn into the inside,” Priscilla whispered, patting Valeria where the inside pocket was within the dress. “In case you have the need to use it.” Valeria nodded, acknowledging it. “You aren’t alone.” Valeria turned to face Priscilla, confused, but the woman’s face revealed nothing amiss. Narcissa waved her wand at the dress once Priscilla packaged it back up properly with the veil and it disappeared.

“It’ll be in your wardrobe. Draco’s up next, why don’t you head back upstairs,” Narcissa said. Valeria nodded and thanked the women respectively before heading back up to her room. Once there, she went to her wardrobe and laid the garment out on her bed. Undoing the encasing, she dug her hand in the inside the fabric, groping for the pocket. Once found, she was surprised to feel rough parchment on her fingertips. Slowly, she withdrew the note from and sat on the edge of her bed.

She didn’t know what she hoped for when she unfolded the letter, but she desperately wanted it to be a sign of hope. Perhaps instructions for a daring escape or some good news for once. But inside she knew immediately that it would be no favorable omen, as soon as she saw her mother’s delicate, perfect handwriting scrawled across the page.

 _Valeria,_

_It is no longer my place to tell you, but I cannot neglect my motherly instincts. If you have not already figured, or otherwise discovered, it has been decided that I be sent away and that for the time being, you and I remain separated. I don’t pretend to know why this is, the reasoning was for my own safety, but I’m sure you can guess that the powers that be find one or both of us to possess some degree of untrustworthiness, which you and I would both find preposterous. My protests would not be heard._

_I am sheltering in Estonia with our distant relations and for the time being am managing some matters in_ The Prophet _, primarily concerning your marriage, which I believe Severus lobbied for in order to soothe me._

_Remember always, quiet confidence. This is what we trained you for. I know it is in you to weather this, however you can. Your reputation is your currency, as your father always said._

_I love you very dearly._

_Your mother,_

_Odessa Winters_

The letter was as disappointing as it was infuriating. There would be no one to guide her through what was fast approaching and Valeria’s heart sank for it. The one person she wanted there more than anyone was her mother. For all her faults, Valeria still loved her and needed her more than ever. It seemed, however, that everyone and everything she had once relied on was slowly eroding away and Valeria was beginning to believe it was somehow intentional.

_“Valeria, say hello to Mr. Weasley,” Odessa said, many years ago, as Valeria passed through the parlor of her home, finding her parents speaking with Arthur Weasley._

_“How do you do?” Valeria said with a broad smile and polite nod of the head. Mr. Weasley tipped his hat to her and responded in kind._

_“Perhaps it would be best if we spoke somewhere more private?” Mr. Weasley said delicately._

_“But of course,” Odessa said before turning to Valeria. “Darling, why don’t you go play upstairs for a bit.” Valeria raised an eyebrow, but did not disobey then. She strode out of sight until her curiosity got the better of her and she crept back down the stairs to the secret passage that, many years later, would be the very same one where she and Draco would spy on their families again. She silently made her way down the dark, narrow passage, quite proud of herself for being so very clever. She stopped at the passage’s end and listened._

_“I’m sorry. I understand how awkward this must be, but it’s really just a formality,” Weasley said._

_“We understand, Arthur,” Hieronymus said calmly. “Though there’s a great deal I admire about Lucius, we are at odds on certain political matters, as you know. In the end, we are loyal to the Ministry.”_

_“I appreciate that,” Weasley said. “Odessa, perhaps you have anything worthy of note. I know you are close with Lucius’s wife.”_

_“Indeed, I am,” Odessa said in her low, syrupy sweet tone. “To be honest, we mainly talk about the children and family matters. We tend not to bother with the political things. To be frank, I would be hesitant to say Narcissa has any strong feelings one way or another and she certainly is not involved in any dark dealings.”_

_Valeria was rather dumbfounded, as one would expect a child to be and later that evening, when Arthur Weasley had left empty handed, Valeria approached her mother._

_“Mum, are the Malfoys in trouble?” she asked. Odessa turned with a knowing look, concern in her eyes._

_“What makes you think that? Were you eavesdropping?” Odessa asked. Valeria looked down for shame, having not had the forethought of crafting a convincing lie. “Valeria, you know not to spy on adult meetings.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Valeria said. Odessa possessed a stern elegance that terrified young Valeria. The kind that of presence of person that would tell you the worst thing in the nicest possible way._

_“The Malfoys are our good friends. We must always look out for our good friends, understand?” Odessa said with a slightly clenched jaw. Valeria nodded. “No more spying.”_

That woman, once so imposing was now a shell of herself, Valeria knew. After reading the letter a few times more, she thought it best to part with it. Painfully, she ignited the tip of her wand and watched the parchment wither to ash and then nothing, all the while the ring which marked her as a betrothed woman felt heavier on her hand. Time passed astonishingly quickly in her pretty little prison box and she let Draco in when he knocked on her door as the sun was slowly beginning its descent.

“Why was my mother sent away? The real reason,” Valeria asked immediately. Draco sighed, exhausted.

“How did you know?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Tell me the truth.” He wanted to argue further, that much was plain, but he looked far too weary to be at the receiving end of yet another verbal lashing.

“She wasn’t stable, you know that,” he said quietly, unable to look Valeria in the eye.

“Too unstable to be there?”

He nodded. “She’s unpredictable. It was too much to risk her causing a scene. This has to be perfect. It has to look…”

“Consensual,” she said.

“Yes,” he said grimly. “She’d want you to be strong in this. You’ll see her again. When this war is over. I promise.”

Valeria had plenty reason to doubt him; His promises had significantly depreciated in value as far as she was concerned. Perhaps it was the stress of the predicament, or disbelief, but she was nearly numb to it all. She just wanted it to be unreal or to be over.

“Is it time for dinner?” she asked, to his surprise as he had not expected her to abruptly change the subject.

“Close to,” he began. “Mother says that we should eat alone tonight. Father is busy anyway and she’s got some preparations to do.” Valeria did not question it, but was irritated at having heard the words _“Mother says…”_ come out of Draco’s mouth yet again. They decided to dine out on the balcony, looking over the grounds as the sun set and though the setting was indeed romantic, the reality of sitting there, waiting for the food to arrive at the table via a house elf’s magic hand, was anything but. For neither the freshness of air or the scent of life could be found. The landscape itself was far too covered by the feeling of dread hanging in the air surrounding the Manor. They sat across from each other with good manners, as if they had not just a few months ago been all over each other in old and long forgotten parts of the Hogwarts castle. When the food finally appeared, they ate in silence as the sun descended under the horizon.

“How did it go?” Draco asked abruptly.

“What?”

“The uh...the fitting.”

“It went well. It’s hanging in the wardrobe if you want to see it,” she said, picking at her food.

“Bad luck, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t think you were superstitious,” she said.

“We need all the luck we can get,” he said as he sighed.

“Better safe than sorry, then. And yourself?”

He shrugged. “It was fine. The fashions haven’t changed much, for men anyway. Pretty straightforward. My mother was particular, but that was expected.”

“Good,” she said. She waited a moment, summoning courage to speak. “Can I ask you something?” He seemed to dread the question.

“Of course.”

“Who’s going to win this war?” she asked. He dropped his fork and sighed, sitting back and pinching the skin between his eyebrows.

“You can’t ask questions like that. None of us can. The Dark Lord will be victorious, that’s all,” he said, sounding as though he were reciting a passage from a book.

“Do you believe that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “With Potter on the run and the Ministry under the Dark Lord’s control, things look good for us.” He had no feelings in his words. It was all too clear to Valeria that the conversation was an empty one.

“I’m a bit inexperienced, but I’m under the oppression that normally married people, or people about to be married, share things with each other,” she said snidely.

“Normal? Does anything about this feel remotely normal to you?” he spat.

And it was then that she disliked him more than she ever had, to her shame. She wondered what he would be like if he were a braver young man. One who stood up for something, anything other than this, for her sake at the very least. But then she felt guilt couple with her frustration, for he had done just that, all last year; To terrible results, of course, but at least he did. She remembered him the night on the Astronomy Tower and the terror that so blatantly gripped him and what he had done, or been appointed to do even now in the Dark Lord’s name. It was hard to tell with him anymore, who he was, but once again he was the last remaining constant left in her life.

And while they sat in silence, Draco noticed her face betray her thoughts and felt ill with the tremendous guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach. If someone had asked him, he would have denied that he loved her, but the truth was he didn’t know. He had certainly thought of it on several occasions over the past year, but he didn’t know himself anymore, let alone her. He wanted to love her, but not like this.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly, Valeria perking up in interest after the prolonged, tense silence. “Whatever happens in this war…about us…I have a plan.”

“Care to elaborate?” Valeria said anxiously.

“Should we lose this war,” he began uncomfortably, as if someone might overhear him. “We will dissolve the marriage immediately, explain that it wasn’t our choice and by force. I’ll take the blame if I have to, for your sake.”

Valeria was surprised but felt hopeful to hear it, no matter how dismal the odds of such an event were. “And if we don’t win?”

Draco swallowed. “We’ll have to stay married.” Valeria had yet to consider what that truly meant until now, the days since her arrival at the Manor having been such a blur of shock and pain. The rest of her life, playing the part of a good Death Eater’s wife, eventually having their children, as would likely be expected eventually. She could hardly fathom it.

“Maybe we could go away. Stay married as they want, but live elsewhere. Get away from all this…” she mused. Draco shook his head.

“I’m a Death Eater, Valeria. I’ll have to remain here. Though mother says she’ll arrange us a ‘proper’ honeymoon once the war is over,” he said with a look of disgust. The thought too made Valeria’s skin crawl. “But, it would only be on paper. We can’t make ourselves actually want this, but we have to pretend and act like it’s forever.”

Valeria hated the very notion. A lifetime spent with him, living like this and denied any chance they ever had to love organically sounded like a life-sentence in some terrible prison. But she knew that if they were going to survive, they had to agree. She imagined that, best case scenario, they would be just like their parents, save for the fact that their parents truly knew they loved their respective spouses. Perhaps she could love Draco in time. Perhaps she had already.

Valeria nodded in agreement. If this was inevitable, then she would be all in with him and him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I had other projects to attend to. Thanks for sticking around and I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy right now. Thank you again for all the love; comments and kudos. I read/reply to all of them and really enjoy them.


	11. Mrs. Malfoy

_"Given all that you've done, Mrs. Malfoy, are we to believe that you and your husband were powerless?"_

_"Power can be found anywhere, if you know where to look," she said coldly._

_*****_

Valeria awoke Saturday morning in the manner that nervous people often do. The sort of rude awakening in which one, for a brief moment, thinks they’re somewhere else only to find their hopes fly off mere seconds later. She got out of her bed laboriously, as if her body was made of heavy metal, and immediately sat at the small vanity to begin putting on her glamours as she had done each and every day since she was very young.

Valeria had never given much thought about her hypothetical wedding day, to be perfectly honest, which may have been a surprise to those who did not know her very well. She had mused on the eventual possibility, like most do, of course, but she never lingered long on such details. It was too far away both in time and space for her to consider. She had figured that the days leading up would be busy, but filled with friends, and the morning of she would be giggling and fussing with her dearest compatriots. They would be joking, laughing, adjusting their garb, asking each other to check their hair and such like. Instead, she was alone, ignoring the breakfast that had appeared on the coffee table in the room.

In kind, she had not given much thought to the eventual man she would marry. He was a mere figment of fantasy at best. He would have been pureblooded, of course, at least she figured he would be, but that was the only a guess of hers that rung perfectly true. She had at some points in her life imagined a man who was tall, but lean. He had a full head of hair of a handsome shade and a smile to charm the pants off anyone. He would have been extremely interesting; perhaps an upcoming expert in some obscure field, or from a land far away or perhaps he would have gone on quite a few adventures; Or some combination thereof. He would have been a smart dresser and while reserved, would have had a wicked sense of humor. He would have demanded a lot out of his life and never a day would have gone by that he wasn’t resolute in his self-assurance.

This fake man, that she imagined someday meeting well after leaving her schooldays behind, was a far cry from the frightened, exhausted, and rattled teenager she would be shortly joining in the ballroom downstairs.

She sat on the sofa, cradling coffee in her cold, clammy hands and picking at the summer fruit plate that was meant to compliment her breakfast. She caught her reflection in the mirror across the room, and never had her elegant appearance so contrasted with how she felt. Her heart sank at the gentle knock on the door, though she instinctively called them to enter. She stood to greet Narcissa, who looked grave, holding a large bouquet of white roses and lilacs, but held her head high in her duty.

“You’ve already begun,” Narcissa said. “Good.” Narcissa approached and presented the bouqet to Valeria. “Do you like it?”

The smell of the lilacs instantly put Valeria slightly at ease, as their perfume always calmed her, but it did little to numb her nerves in the long run. Valeria nodded, admiring it. Pleased, Narcissa set it down and put her hands gently, the comforting way that mothers often do, on Valeria’s shoulders. “You look lovely already, as always.” Narcissa was being perfectly genuine, though Valeria found little comfort in it through no fault of Narcissa’s. “Shall we start with your hair?” Valeria nodded and sat back down at the small vanity while Narcissa combed through the former’s hair, beginning to style it without the aid of magic.

“Your mother should be doing this. I’m sorry she can’t be here. I know she wouldn’t have missed this for anything in the world otherwise,” Narcissa said softly.

“I understand,” Valeria said. Valeria had her hands in her lap, tightly clasped. It was horrendously awkward, despite how long and well Valeria had known Mrs. Malfoy. The idea that she would in a short time be the woman’s daughter-in-law made Valeria cringe.

“I want you to know that, despite everything, I will be proud to have you as Draco’s wife. Ever since your fourth year, I always secretly wondered…Your mother and I joked about it often…” Narcissa mused almost as if she were talking to herself. While her words were true, Valeria could sense in her voice that she absolutely did not desire her son to be married off so young.

“Thank you. I’m happy too,” Valeria said, lying, which she guessed Narcissa knew. Narcissa did not acknowledge the thoughts underlying Valeria’s words, but the truth of it all was that no one was truly happy about this.

Narcissa cleared her throat. “I’m assuming, at some point, your mother told you about marriage. About the wedding night, I mean.”

There was a lump in Valeria’s throat. “Yes, I know.”

“Lucius and I taught Draco to be considerate and kind when it comes to…that. He won’t hurt you, though I cannot promise it to be pain free, at least at first.”

“Yes, I know,” Valeria said politely. She wanted the conversation to end as quickly as possible or else she might have vomited. It was one thing to snog Draco in dark corridors and walk to class hand-in-hand. She could not fathom of the evening’s expectation and certainly did not want to discuss it further with Narcissa. The latter placed a decorative clip in Valeria’s beautifully styled hair and came to the side of the chair.

“Draco will do his absolute best in everything. I can promise you that at the very least,” Narcissa said quietly. Valeria nodded to her and stood. Valeria watched almost helplessly as Narcissa went to the wardrobe and carefully pulled out the wedding garb that hung there. Valeria felt ill again. Without hardly a word, Narcissa assisted Valeria in getting the damn thing on, again without the aid of magic. She took Valeria by the shoulder to the full-length mirror in the room as she secured the veil to the top of Valeria’s head.

Valeria took herself in. Dissociated from herself, she felt a stranger in her own skin. The fabric felt as heavy as iron and as constricting as a tourniquet. She tried to breathe, maintaining the default poise that she could, at any other time, carry with ease. She could see Narcissa’s face in the reflection; a bittersweet expression on her narrow-featured face.

“You look stunning,” Narcissa admitted. Valeria too knew that any other bride in the world would have been overjoyed to look half as resplendent as she did on their wedding day; To wear fine fabrics in a beautiful mansion setting. The circumstances made even the most gorgeous thing she had ever worn feel stale and dreary.

The door swung open without even a hint of a knock, startling Valeria, she turned and felt her insides clench upon seeing the mad-haired, deranged woman with the terrorizing smirk. Bellatrix Lestrange was a beautiful woman once, if Valeria’s memories of her own mother’s photographs could be believed, and some of that beauty remained in her terrifyingly gaunt face. She was tall and her wild eyes were intimidating beyond measure. What gutted Valeria upon seeing her was the memory of the Battle of Department of Mysteries, where it was the curse from Bellatrix’s wand that took Konstantin’s life.

Even Narcissa tensed a little when her own sister barged in the room. “It’s not time yet, is it?”

“No, no, not yet,” Bellatrix began. “I just wanted to get a look at the blushing bride beforehand.” The comment indeed caused Valeria to blush, fortunately her glamours masked the reaction. Bellatrix approached with a sinister smile. “My, my, the rumors were true. You are quite stunning for your age, aren’t you? I can see why my nephew is so fond of you.”

“You’re very kind, Mrs. Lestrange,” Valeria said instinctively.

Bellatrix forcibly took Valeria’s hands in hers. “You must be so excited. A pureblooded witch and wizard, loyal to the Dark Lord, joining together like this…Who knows, you two could be the most respected and feared among our numbers in the wizarding world someday.”

“It’s an honor, truly,” Valeria replied.

“And you know your duties?” Bellatrix asked. Valeria was unsure, but did not want to get hazard a guess, as to what Bellatrix was referring to.

“She knows,” Narcissa said. Bellatrix grinned and released Valeria’s hands, looking the latter up and down like a prize.

“It is a good thing to have some good news happen during this war. You will make an excellent addition to the cause. Who knows, you may be able to redeem your father and brother’s missteps…”

“That’s enough for now, Bella,” Narcissa said sternly. “Valeria has other things on her mind right now.”

“Of course, of course. We’ll speak again when you’re _Mrs. Malfoy_ ,” Bellatrix said, with a high pitched little cackle. Valeria was nearly trembling with fear or rage as Bellatrix strutted out of the room. Narcissa quickly turned to her.

“She can be a little over-zealous sometimes. Never mind what she says for now,” Narcissa said. Valeria did not risk opening her mouth for fear of what words might come out. Narcissa looked at the clock and then hugged Valeria. “You will do well. I promise.”

Valeria carefully returned the embrace and nodded, holding back little wisps of tears that she would allow no one to see. Narcissa left Valeria, explaining that someone would retrieve her when the time came and so Valeria sat as the time passed, glancing to the window every so often, fantasizing about making some daring escape that she knew would be impossible.

Her heart fell out of her, or so it felt, when there was a gentle rap at the door. She stood and called for them to enter, straightening out her garments. In entered a young man who she only vaguely recognized and he bowed his head politely to her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” she greeted.

He laughed a little. “I wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me. Leonard Cartwright. I was Konstantin’s friend, back in school.” Suddenly Valeria remembered him, though it had been several years. He was often at the Winters’ home in Wales and Konstantin talked often about their antics playing Quidditch together. Konstantin once said that Leonard was his closest friend.

“Of course. Forgive my manners. What can I do for you?” Valeria said.

“I asked Mrs. Malfoy when I got my invitation, that since your dad and Konstantin aren’t here to do it…if I’d be allowed to escort you…I know I’m assuming, and you can tell me to piss off if you want, but I thought that Konstnatin would want someone to do it in their place…” he said awkwardly. Valeria nodded. If there was anyone she would want to do this, she would have liked it to be someone close to her brother.

“That’d be nice,” she said genuinely.

“They’re starting soon. We should…” Leonard started again.

“Right, of course,” Valeria said. She grabbed the heavy bouquet and picked up the bottom of her garments with her other hand before following Leonard out and down the long path of hallways and stairs to the first floor of the Manor and then down more long, wide corridors to the ballroom. It was a room she knew quite well, having been to many parties and events held in there over the years, but now the doors were closed to her and she had nothing to do but wait. She stood, only really hearing the sound of her own breath and pounding heartbeat while Leonard stood a polite distance away. The minutes passed like eons and she adjusted her veil to cover her face in accordance with custom, and also because she desperately wanted somewhere to hide.

With a flourish of music, provided by enchanted instruments, the doors swung open and everyone seated in the ballroom stood to face her. Leonard quickly stepped to Valeria’s side and they began to stride, arm in arm. She dared not look anywhere but the ground immediately in front of her, feeling the eyes of everyone on her like she were some sort of curiosity.

It felt almost unreal, as if it were happening to some other girl, somewhere else. Valeria felt as though she were marching in a funeral procession for the life she would never have.

It was as though she had been forced to act in a stage play and everyone else had the script, save for her.

She looked up, trying not to tremble in her shoes. Through the sheerness of the veil she could see the breathtakingly elegant décor. She walked along the aisle toward a grand archway decorated beautifully with flowers and ribbons and to one side stood Draco, his black dress robes and white-blond hair easy to spot. He was facing her, but she could tell even now that his eyes refused to meet hers. Leonard and Valeria stopped at the end of the aisle just before the platform.

“And who gives this woman to be wed?” the officiant asked. Valeria looked to get a better look at him, knowing that voice. Indeed, it was the same officiant from Fleur’s wedding, only this time he looked grave, nearly fearful. She took a moment to glance around as discretely as she could. Hardly anyone was there as far as she could tell, certainly no one to whom she was close, and every few moments one of two cameras flashed.

“I do, on behalf of the Winters family,” Leonard replied. Glancing to her right, she saw three empty chairs in the front row, each with a flower placed on their seats and she held back tears again. Leonard released Valeria and assisted her onto the platform with the bouquet in hand. Valeria took her place, standing tall and firm, though she felt weak in the knees with all eyes on her like this. She looked at Draco, seeing him clearly. He was always terrible at hiding his feelings and though he had improved for his own survival, she could see right through him. He looked completely and utterly empty and the fact that he could hardly stand to look at her hurt Valeria’s spirits more than she cared to admit.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the historic union of these two noble and legendary families. The Malfoys have maintained purity of blood and remained champions of the cause for many generations. The Winters as well cannot claim even a blemish in their bloodline and have achieved great things in the name of magical supremacy,” the officiant said, reading from notes, quite obviously saying words he had been compelled to write with no sincerity in his speech. “Though these are trying times and many tragedies have struck as of late, the decision of these two fine young people to wed, even now, should be considered a triumph and cause to celebrate. It is rare to find such dedication and belief in the most sacred of our traditions in such young people. We honor them, their families and all they represent to our noble cause. I ask the bride and groom to now take each other’s hands.”

The lifeless words were worthless to her. Even now, it was clear the entire sham was a show for the Dark Lord’s cause and nothing else. Narcissa rose to hold Valeria’s bouquet as the latter joined hands with Draco whose own palms trembled at her touch. The officiant used his wand to levitate a small card in Draco’s eye line, which would have been a comical sight if not for the circumstances, and compelled Draco to read from it.

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take you, Valeria Terpsichore Winters to be my wife. I vow to forsake all others, to uphold your dignity in all matters, to father your children, stand by you in your time of need, and rejoice in your triumphs. This I shall do for the remainder of my days,” Draco read aloud carefully and slowly, trying to keep his focus on the performance, and nearly failing. Another card floated in Valeria’s eye line when he had finished and Valeria read, trying to force confidence in her voice.

“I, Valeria Terpsichore Winters, take you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, as my husband. I vow to forsake all others, to uphold your dignity in all matters, to mother your children, stand by you in your time of need, and rejoice in your triumphs. This I shall do for the remainder of my days,” she said gravely.

“Mr. Malfoy, if you would retrieve your rings,” the officiant said. Draco reached into a pocket and placed a platinum colored band in Valeria’s hand, keeping another himself. “If you would place the ring on the bride’s left finger…” Nearly fumbling, Draco did as he was told. The ring fit perfectly, but symbolically it felt like a shackle. “And if you would place the ring on Draco’s left hand…” Valeria obeyed. Draco’s fingers trembled so much that Valeria feared she might drop the ring, but fortunately she managed to maintain composure. The ring slipped onto his bony, cold finger and she felt pangs of guilt as she performed the act, sensing all of his pain and discomfort.

“If there be any reason these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace,” the officiant said. Valeria knew it was a formality, meant for legal reasons that would bar them from marriage, but she secretly hoped that someone there would rise and end this for her. No one said a single word. “By the power and authority vested in me by the Ministry of Magic and the laws of this land, it is my honor and privilege to pronounce Draco and Valeria husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride,” the officiant continued.

With a tentative hand, Draco lifted Valeria’s veil and looked her in the eye for the first time that day. He had to her the guiltiest expression she had ever seen him bear. In his eyes were remnants of small tears and he carried himself as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. Draco leaned in more quickly than Valeria had expected and kissed her with the most lifeless kiss he could ever give. Fortunately, he did not linger long, despite the mixture of polite clapping and rude cheering from some of the more enthusiastic members of witnesses.

“It gives me great pleasure to introduce for the very first time Mr. and Mrs. Draco Lucius Malfoy,” the officiant said to a flourish of music and polite applause. The name Winters was gone and that broke her heart. They turned to face their guests and she saw hardly a face she knew well. She never felt more humiliated. Draco was the first to move, pulling her gently down the aisle by the hand and out of the ballroom. Without a word, he brought her to a nearby room, a small, dark sitting room. He released her to shut the door behind them and suddenly stopped.

“Fuck,” he said through his teeth and slammed his fist into the door. Valeria didn’t flinch. The reality was only just starting to dawn on her too and she shared his sentiment. Before she could reply, the doors opened and in came the officiant along with the Malfoys, with Narcissa still holding the bouquet, Bellatrix, and Daphne’s father Albert Greengrass. Bellatrix was the only of the group who possessed any joy.

“There’s some documents to sign,” Lucius said.

“Can we just have a few minutes—” Draco started.

“You two have the rest of your lives for that,” Bellatrix said. “These are important.” Bellatrix waved over the officiant who set down a large document on the table.

“This is the certificate marriage, signed by yourselves and two witnesses,” the officiant said, passing Draco the quill first. Dutifully, he scrawled his signature and without looking at her, passed the quill to Valeria. Valeria, with a hesitance only she could perceive, followed suit. Bellatrix took the quill next and signed her name as a witness beside Draco’s.

“And who is your witness?” Bellatrix asked Valeria. Valeria clammed up. She hadn’t thought of it, nor had she been told to choose anyway.

“I’d like to be, if you let me,” Albert Greengrass said.

“Mr. Greengrass,” Valeria greeted surprised, her heart aching that Daphne was not there for any kind of moral support.

“I know Daphne would want to do it, if she were here,” Albert said. Valeria nodded and Bellatrix passed him the quill.

“Then it’s done!” Bellatrix said gleefully as Albert finished signing his name.

“Bella, perhaps you could show Mr. Greengrass back to the ballroom,” Narcissa said. Bellatrix looked a bit miffed, but smiled at her sister.

“Of course,” Bellatrix said. “Come, Albert. You’ll see that Narcissa really did an incredible job in a very short amount of time…”

Albert looked back at Valeria sympathetically, almost pitifully, as they left and Valeria felt humiliated all over again. The officiant removed a second document from the envelope and placed it on the table.

_Legal Change of Name at Time of Marriage_

“This is primarily for you, Miss Winters,” the officiant said, nearly stuttering, but trying to be kind. He made eye contact with her, recognizing her surely from Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Valeria felt sick again.

“That’s Mrs. Malfoy,” Lucius said impatiently. Narcissa gave him a stern look while the officiant muttered an apology.

“Just sign your full married name here. It’s really a formality, of course,” the officiant said. Picking up the quill, Valeria looked the document over. Printed upon it was the name she was born with, a signature line below it for her to sign away the rest of her life. Nearly shaking and holding back tears, she carefully and slowly wrote,

_Valeria Terpsichore Malfoy_

She set the quill down as if it were hot to the touch and nearly flinched away from it once the deed was done. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco staring at the floor.

“Get those to the Ministry immediately. You are dismissed,” Lucius told the officiant. The officiant nodded, almost relieved and darted out of the room. Narcissa approached Valeria and handed the flowers back to her.

“It’s time for some pictures, then the reception,” Narcissa said. Valeria nodded and she followed the elder Malfoys out, Draco walking at her side. They went out to the garden to meet a rather unfortunate gloomy day, which made the landscaping appear menacing rather than beautiful. White peacocks strolled about their business, blissfully unaware of the state of things and Valeria sorely envied them. They were met by the two photographers from before, who began to direct Valeria and Draco on where to stand. They too seemed just as eager to get this over with.

Valeria stood beside Draco, just a touch in the foreground, as if they hardly knew each other. She managed a slight smile, hardly noticeable, but that was all she could muster. She could feel the tension radiating from Draco, which only made it worse. They took more pictures, some of each of them alone, different but equally rigid portraits together as well, and some with the Malfoys. Valeria was beginning to get a headache once it ended.

Lucius had departed sooner, shortly followed by Narcissa who led Draco and Valeria back to the ballroom. The guests stood and applauded politely for them and fortunately the music covered for the blatant lack of enthusiasm. A long table had been set on a platform and Narcissa directed the newlyweds to it. A table that at a different wedding would have been filled with other loved ones, was empty save for them.

Food was quickly served, magically appearing once more and hired help were passing around drinks. Valeria gratefully accepted them and drank until her nerves calmed even slightly. A haggard looking woman with a badge approached the table.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. I was wondering if you could spare a few words for _The Prophet_ ,” the woman said without introducing herself.

“Sure,” Draco said, exacerbated.

“Excellent, thank you. First, will you remain here or establish your own household?”

“We will be staying here until we complete our studies at the very least,” Draco replied dryly, sipping from a wine glass.

“Speaking of your studies, will you be attending Hogwarts as a married couple?” the reporter asked.

“I don’t see how else we’d attend, do you?” Draco scoffed.

“We will be attending as servants to the cause first,” Valeria interrupted. “then as students second. Our married status will be of no hiderance or interference.” Valeria was growing angry with Draco’s lack of decorum, for all his talk of putting on a good face.

“And have you any advice for young people in love?” the reporter asked.

“Do what you have to do,” Draco said dryly. The reporter thanked them and skulked off back into the mingling crowd, the place crawling with Death Eaters and those loyal to the Dark Lord. After some time, Lucius stood and called attention to himself.

“For the sake of brevity, there will only be one speech tonight. On behalf of myself, my wife, my son and daughter-in-law, I’d like to thank you all for taking the time to attend this happy event. We live in troubling times and it certainly means a great deal to see so many of our friends and loved ones here. I have watched my son grow from a boy to a fine young man, diligent in his duty and loyal to his family. For that, his mother and I are eternally grateful. As you all tragically know, Valeria’s father and brother are no longer with us. Hieronymus was one of my fondest and closest friends; his family was and remains an extension of my own. I know that, were he here, he would beam with pride for Valeria, who he always considered to be the crown jewel of his name. These two, though young, have grown up together. They have weathered many storms already and I speak for myself and my wife when I say that we are honored to bring Valeria into our family.”

Valeria clapped along politely and saw Draco stare down his father with a gaze registering hurt or disdain; It was difficult to discern. Valeria too could not help but feel betrayed by Lucius’s words, doubting very much that her proud, protective father would approve of any of this, or Lucius’s failure to remotely protect her in the former’s absence. Valeria was relieved that she and Draco would be spared the agony of speaking words of their own, which would have rivaled Lucius’s speech in terms of emptiness, undoubtedly.

Narcissa rose shortly after, calling attention to herself and lifting the volume of her voice with her wand. “I believe it is time for the bride and groom to share their first dance.”

Draco looked just as surprised as Valeria. They hadn’t prepared or practiced anything; A dance had never been mentioned. Dutifully, though, they stood and Draco grabbed Valeria’s hand to lead them to the center of the room. Valeria had never been more nervous to dance, an activity she adored. Considering that Draco had been drinking and was never as sure of foot as she was, she prayed the embarrassment would be short. A slow waltz began and they began with a curtsey and a bow, respectively, before assuming the proper posture.

Valeria lost herself, projecting her memory of the Yule Ball onto this moment. Saddened, to her shame, at how he would not even look at her and feeling his rigid body as they performed the ritual, she wanted to remember him at his best. Before he had wasted away, and held her shyly, gently dancing in the Great Hall, laughing as he stepped on the hem of her robes. Going around and round, nearly dizzy, burning up all the energy they could, feeling her heart jump when he looked at her with his gray eyes that were at once frigid, but open and warm. It was when mischief was the only thing on their minds, thinking themselves so clever as to be invulnerable. They shone bright then, for those few hours, with endless ambition and clear focus and he would lift her to the music with such sure vigor that she believed she could fly and felt no fear.

She caught Bellatrix’s sick sneer, seeing the woman’s immense pleasure in the misery Draco and herself were subjected to now, and it snatched Valeria out of her fantasies and into the present. Turning and waltzing tired and mechanical, simply reciting steps that they had learned long ago. She wanted to run, to flee to the gardens if only to scream, but was held to the spot only by the weight that seemed to crush her and Draco.

They returned to their seats unceremoniously, to pitiful applause, when the dance ended and the evening dragged ever on. Valeria’s emotions came and went in waves of anger, numbness, sadness, desperation, and numbness again. It might have been hours as the guests ate, drank, mingled and some even danced, Valeria had lost track of time. Only Narcissa’s approach to the table jolted Valeria from the storm of her ever wandering thoughts. Valeria watched as she whispered in her son’s ear, squeezing his arm in a motherly way. He looked down and nodded. Narcissa departed without another word as Draco leaned over to Valeria.

“It’s time to go,” he whispered in her ear. Those were the only words he had said to her all day and she was hurt, angry, but primarily crippled with anxiety as she understood his meaning. Her heart quickened and she began to sweat. He took her hand as they rose, performing a final farewell to their guests and making their way out of the rooms. Draco released her hand as the doors shut behind them and he silently lead the way upstairs and through the darkened mansion’s corridors. A part of her hoped he had a plan; That he was taking her to some secret passage from which they would make their daring escape. They would wait out the war somewhere lovely and far away, or perhaps they would stay there forever as all of this slowly faded from memory, replaced with the stable monotony of a simpler life.

Her hopes were of course for naught. Draco opened the door to the chamber he had shown her days prior. Entering, she found her belongings and many of Draco’s already moved into it, which made the upgraded cell feel more familiar, but her focus landed on the massive, four-poster bed at the back edge of the room and she wanted to vomit. She was desperately homesick for her cozy castle chamber in Wales, cradled by ancient stone. She even missed her dormitory at Hogwarts, surrounded by friends and lulled to sleep by the gentle whooshes of the Black Lake. Draco shut the door behind them as she stood unsure and vulnerable. He removed the outer layer of his robes and tossed it over a sofa on his way to the cabinet at the far end of the room. Valeria was trying to maintain composure, swallowing the lump in her throat, but she felt her legs grow weaker the harder she tried and sat on the other sofa, rigid and clasping her hands together. Breathing, she tried to steel her resolve, searching her mind for a way to cope.

Draco approached with a glass of mead in each hand and offered one to her with a defeated expression. “It’ll help,” he said grimly.

She nodded and accepted the glass with a nearly trembling hand and Draco placed the rest of the bottle onto the table between the sofas. Sipping deep, it was a dry mead, with a sweet aftertaste, which was comforting. She hoped it was strong as she drank more. Draco had already retreated to the floor-to-ceiling window in silence, staring blankly out into the night. Valeria kept drinking, refilling her glass herself from the bottle placed on the table by the sofa. She felt warmth take hold in her gut as the mead, combined with what she had consumed before, began to take effect.

Knowing that she would not muster anymore bravery, she stood. She undid the clips holding her veil in place and let it drape on the sofa. She moved tentatively to the opposite side of the bed from where Draco stood. She reached behind her neck and clumsily attempted to undo the many buttons on the back of her bridal attire.

Draco, having only just noticed what she was doing, turned. “Valeria, stop.” She brought her hands back down to her side and looked at him. “We’re not doing that.” 

Rather than relieved, she was confused. “I thought that we’re supposed—”

“We’ll let them believe we have, but we’re not,” he said.

“You said yourself that we have to behave perfectly and I just thought…Is this anything to do with me?” she rambled.

“What are you talking about?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and an exhausted tone.

“You haven’t said anything to me all day. You’ll barely look at me. Do you not want…Is there something wrong with me?” Valeria said. It was a stupid question, she should have known better, but she was so overwhelmed and confused that she could not help herself. He slowly approached, blushing.

“I have wanted to, with you, since like fifth year, Valeria. It’s nothing to do with you. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I can…” he said, barely containing his awkward embarrassment. “I know you don’t want to and I sure as hell don’t, so we’re not. Not like this. Ever.”

“I’m not naïve, Draco,” she said, looking up at him. “There are going to be expectations of us. They’ll want this to be as real as any other…marriage.”

“This is a sham. It’s all for show. After tomorrow, it’ll be old news or have you forgotten we’re in the middle of a goddamn war? No one is going to give a damn about whatever this even is by the time the week is out,” he said.

Valeria’s mind was racing. “You can’t run from this anymore than I can. You know they’ll expect children eventually and—”

“No!” he spat. “Have you gone mad? Don’t you remember what I said? That we’re ending this thing if we lose? No. No. We’re not even ready for this, how the hell will be ready for that even after we’re done with school. I won’t let it come to that,” he blathered, frustrated and anxious. His eyes were wild with panic.

“That’s not completely in our control. You know that,” she said sadly.

“Well, I’m not going to entertain it right now if I don’t have to. It’s done. We’re safe for now. Just…can we not do this? Can we just rest?” he said, asking his questions as if he were begging. Valeria honored his wishes and felt some relief that they could at least get away with not meeting expectations for now.

She moved behind the wooden dress panel and got out of the attire herself, with the aid of magic given the many hard-to-reach buttons. She immediately relaxed a little more, thankful she would never have to wear it again. She pulled a nightgown of hers out of the wardrobe beside her, opting for the most modest of the bunch, though she felt it was more suited for her late grandmother. She climbed quickly into the large bed and kept her head turned away from the other side of the room, hearing Draco too preparing himself for rest.

“I can—I can sleep on the sofa if you want,” he said awkwardly as he approached. She shook her head, not looking at him.

“No, it’s fine,” she told him. He got in bed silently and she could feel the bed and bedding shift around, but still did not turn. When he stopped moving, he waved his wand to extinguish the lighting and complete stillness washed over the room. She could feel him lying at the far side of the bed, avoiding even the faintest touch of her.

A little moonlight creeped into the room through the crack in the curtains at the window closest to her. The silvery light caught the stones and metallic shine on the rings of her left hand and she watched them glisten gently, knowing full well that both of them were wide awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one. My apologies in advance for embarrassing typos. I'll review at some point and fix them, but I wanted to get this out. I wanted to fit in a bunch of things, but it was getting too awkward and long! Thank you for the love and comments, I do appreciate and enjoy them. Thank you for sticking with me. I'm hoping to get this moving a little faster in the next chapter or so, but it'll take me a little bit as there is less book material to follow. Hope you are all staying safe and well.


	12. A Moment Alone

_"Had this gone differently, you would have made a fantastic dark witch," he said._

_"Am I not already?" she asked with a snide smirk._

_*****_

Draco awoke the next morning after a long night of intermittent rest at best. He sat up slowly in the unfamiliar bed, groggily believing he might have been dreaming to find that he was no longer in his childhood bedroom and for the first time had shared his bed with another person. He looked at her, still asleep, her face covered by her hair and her head buried in the pillows. He had never seen her so imperfect; Even one hair out of place would have been jarring on a normal day.

He carefully pulled the covers back up to her shoulder and she hardly stirred, thankfully. He wanted some time alone. He began quietly washing up for the day in the adjacent bathroom of their chamber. No amount of miserable “preparation talks” with his parents could have helped him know how to navigate this little surprise of married life. How was he to go about his business without waking or bothering her? How were they supposed to share a space? Would she even be bothered by it? He hadn’t the slightest idea.

Taking in the room after washing and dressing, he at last noticed the breakfast, a coffee and tea assortment the house elf had magicked to the table. In another corner of the room nearby was a neatly stacked assortment of gift boxes and cards, likely his mother’s doing. He sat on the sofa and poured himself coffee and read _The Prophet_ in silence. It came as no surprise, but was still a disappointment, to find himself and his now wife on the front page of the morning’s paper.

 _Wedding Bells for Valeria Winters and Draco Malfoy_

Draco scoffed with a sneer at the headline. He hadn’t remembered hearing any wedding bells. Though his sarcastic thoughts were followed suddenly by sadness, as he could guess that this would be the last time he would see Valeria’s old surname in print. Of the many names he knew her by; Val, Songbird, Dollface, Valeria, to call her by Malfoy had been the most jarring and the hardest to grow accustomed to, for both her sake and his own. 

The Daily Prophet _is pleased to announce to the wizarding world the nuptials of Mister Draco Lucius Malfoy and Miss Valeria Terpsichore Winters (pictured above), who said “I do!” on Saturday the ninth of August, 1997._

 _Their betrothal was short, but carefully planned by the newlyweds and their families. In these troubling times, young Mr. Malfoy believed it best to propose to his bride in private, having been overcome with relief by her safe return after she had been held captive by insurgents for a second time in one calendar year. In the spirit of love, he hoped that his proposal would allow Valeria the stability she deserves and bring her comfort after all the young woman has endured._

_Draco and Valeria likely don’t remember their first meeting as young children, but due to the closeness and comradery their families shared, a friendship and sharing of pureblood values has endured throughout their childhood and adolescence. The two became quite close during their time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, often working together to bring great pride to House Slytherin. Draco has earned his place among the Dark Lord’s esteemed ranks, having been instrumental in the removal of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, with the cunning and inspired assistance of Valeria, who remained true in the face of doubt and uncertainty._

_Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, the groom’s mother, is overcome with happiness. She tells_ The Prophet _, “It’s a joyful day for us all. The Winters have long been our dearest friends; A noble family with an impeccable bloodline. Valeria possesses a lovely disposition and compliments Draco’s personality perfectly, and vice versa. I could not be prouder to welcome her into our family. They are a fine of example of how young people can represent our cause even in trying times."_

_The ceremony and following reception were held at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, and though private, were both extremely elegant. The bride was an absolute vision, surely now the envy of bride’s everywhere, and a stunning portrait of grace and poise throughout the evening._

_Wise words, indeed! We here at_ The Daily Prophet _extend our heartfelt congratulations and well wishes to the new Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy. See page three for an exclusive interview with the happy couple!_

Draco did not turn to page three, but rather tossed the paper back onto the table. He wanted to gag while he read it, though he had long since grown used to reading various lies and assumptions about him and his family in the papers over the past year or so. He had no doubt that most of the article was likely a result of Odessa Winters’s careful wording. He had never met a person who could spin any lie into truth so deftly, if one was vague enough, so much as her. He could easily see where Valeria got such qualities from.

He leaned his head backward on the back of the sofa and stared helplessly at the ceiling. He held his left hand above him, examining the platinum colored band on his finger. He so desperately wanted to believe that this wasn’t real, or rather that he could make it less real by knowing and saying, repeatedly, that it was a sham. A mere show to the wizarding world to demonstrate the reinvigorated traditions of the new order. He needed to believe there might have been some way out at the end of all of this. After all, he knew the Dark Lord didn’t give a damn about romance, marriage or love nor did he care for anything associated with such things. He cared about power, loyalty, blood purity and punishment for disobedience. Perhaps this, was all those things, however diametrically opposed, all at once. 

The band on Draco’s ring finger showed him the truth. This was as real as all the other unthinkable things that had happened in recent memory and equally out of his control. He found himself overwhelmed by a wave of guilt. Had he only had the balls to slay Dumbledore himself or had he only accepted the old man’s offer a moment sooner, he could have spared both him and Valeria this outcome. The offer might have been fruitless in the end, but at least he could have bought him, her and their families some time to regroup, rethink or even run, if it proved the best choice.

It was his fault. It had been for a long time and there were no mental gymnastics he could do to try and convince himself otherwise. He dragged her into this on promises that he, at the time, believed true. He shut down the truth to protect her chance at life, keeping from her other options she might have had. He was too vulnerable, weak and unsteady. He made the mistake of failing to conceal the fact that he loved her.

 _Draco sat alone in his father’s study, illuminated only by darkness. It was the early summer preceding his sixth year of school and he was full of barely bridled rage. He could hear his aunt and his mother arguing heatedly just outside the study, but Draco was too distracted to pay close attention to their words. He wanted this over with. He wanted to get to work._

_He gently rubbed the still fresh tattoo on his left arm, which still stung once in a while and overall took some getting used to. He was proud though. He was taking on his family legacy in lieu of his father. He was the protector now, perhaps the hero even. He was chosen. The Dark Lord seemed impressed by the ingenuity of Draco’s plan to assassinate Dumbledore with the help of the vanishing cabinets. He would make the one at Hogwarts operational himself and secure the other in Knockturn Alley for his use. Receiving a compliment on this from the Dark Lord himself had been one of the proudest moments in Draco’s young life._

_He was chomping at the bit when his Aunt Bellatrix finally barged into the room, explaining how she managed to calm Narcissa down, who had wanted to be in the room with her son for this. He loved his mother, but he knew he wanted to do this alone._

_“Are you ready,” Bellatrix asked cheerfully, readying her wand._

_“Do it,” Draco said with a nod._

_“Remember, try to shove me out. Legilimens!”_

_Draco completely failed to cast her out of his mind. She dove headfirst into his humiliations. He saw Marcus Flint scolding him for letting Potter get the best of him in Quidditch. He heard a group of older Slytherin girls giggling about “Mopey Malfoy.” He saw his father, angrily lecturing him about mudblood Granger receiving higher marks. He saw Professor Moody turning him into a goddamn ferret—_

_Bellatrix stopped and Draco’s anger ignited again when he saw her bending over in laughter._

_“It’s not bloody funny!” Draco said, panting._

_“Oh, I’m afraid it is, Draco,” Bellatrix said._

_“Don’t go there. Go other places,” Draco demanded referring to the reaches of his mind, embarrassed._

_“It’s all a part of the training Draco. Where do you think our enemies will head first, hmm? Memories of yourself feeling like master of the universe? You need to put those thoughts deep, tucked away where no one can find, or better yet get rid of them all together. All your shame, your little quarrels, your cares, every awful, humiliating moment will be used against you. Understood?” Bellatrix explained._

_Draco didn’t have time to retort when she cast the spell again. She went for his insecurities next. He relived his jealousy towards Cedric Diggory and Konstantin Winters over how cool, good-looking and well liked they were. He was then alone, still in uniform, kicking his trunk over a lost Quidditch match. Staring disdainfully at Potter and his friends as they cheered when Gryffindor won the House Cup, narrowly beating Slytherin. He was in the hall, watching Valeria walk hand-in-hand with Terry bloody Boot—_

_Bellatrix released him. He had yet to succeed in blocking her out. His head felt so spun around and mixed up that he wanted to vomit._

_“Well, now. That’s interesting,” Bellatrix mused. Draco looked up her, panicked._

_“Don’t go there,” he said, trying to sound threatening._

_“I have to!” she shouted. “This is not a game. It’s not a Quidditch match or one of your schoolyard pranks! This is your life or your death. We are weeding out your weakness, Draco, and if you succeed in your task, this will only prove to make you stronger._

_“Leave her out of it…Please,” he pleaded, nearly tearful. He had been so worried, so hatefully angry. She was still gone, still missing and there had yet to be any sign of her anywhere. He needed her safe. He desperately needed it._

_“That’s not up to me, Draco, and you know it. Legilimens!”_

_He saw Valeria in childhood. He was trying to teach her how to fly on a broom without their parents knowing. He saw her at eleven, walking proudly to the Slytherin table having just been sorted. She was scolding him after that Hippogriff scratched him, annoying him in the Hospital Wing. She was at the Yule Ball, as radiant as she could ever be to a fourteen-year-old boy. She was dancing, laughing and she kissed him in that dark little corner after a cup of contraband wine. He saw himself regretting the stupid, pompous lie that his mother made him ask her to the Ball. He saw her knowing look. He saw that confident little smirk as she moved with her head high down the corridors with her friends. He felt the shame and immature ire when she left him after how he acted at Diggory’s funeral. He felt his blood boil all over again, seeing her with Terry Boot. He saw himself hexing a Hufflepuff who called her “dollface.” And then he saw her cry over_ The Quibbler _and felt himself helpless as to what to do. He saw her spinning round, grinning wide, at their little spot by the Black Lake. His late night, private, thoughts regarding her were laid bare in Bellatrix’s prodding, humiliating him beyond belief. All the words, all the feelings shared and had for and with her were on clear display. He saw her vanish out of Umbridge’s office. The last he had seen of her—  
_

_Draco panted, sweating, head down, fists clenched and nearly in tears when his aunt released him. There was a moment of stunned silence between them as he caught his trembling breath._

_“You love her, don’t you?” Bellatrix asked softly. “Well, as much as a boy can. But you believe you do…”_

_“That has nothing to do with—” Draco said, scrambling._

_“It has everything to do with your task! You cannot afford any distractions. Whatever you feel for her will only get in the way,” Bellatrix said._

_“Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him, please,” Draco begged again._

_“I need to report on your progress. He has to know,” Bellatrix said._

_“No—!”_

_“I think we’re done for tonight. Get some rest and we will have another go tomorrow,” Bellatrix said coldly, strutting back out of the room. Draco was left alone again, his head in his shaking hands. His mother rushed into the room and knelt before him, whispering words of comfort and touching his hair._

_“She’s going to tell him,” Draco blurted out. His mind felt like it had been in a tornado and he could hardly articulate his thoughts._

_“Tell him what?” Narcissa asked softly._

_“Valeria…She—she saw Valeria in my head and now she’s going to tell him!” he said, in tears. His mother brought him into her arms and he had no strength to resist. She was there the next afternoon as he, weeping, told her how the Dark Lord had added Valeria to the list of those whose lives were on the line should he fail. It was to motivate him, he was told, but Narcissa, herself enraged by the new development, accidentally let slip to him her theory that the threat was equally designed to punish both Valeria and Odessa for their late relatives’ failures at the Department of Mysteries. It didn’t matter to Draco as he only knew two things to be true: Valeria was missing and she would be dead by the end of the year if he failed the Dark Lord._

Draco, plagued by his own thoughts, decided that the moment Bellatrix saw his thoughts was the moment in which Valeria’s fate had been sealed. And all because he had been too arrogant and too careless to keep her safe. Looking over at her, still a lump under the covers, he concluded that no matter how he parsed the recent past, it came back to the same place: This was all his fault.

He pondered how to be better for her sake but had so little to work with. Fortunately, the Dark Lord had taken to ignoring Draco for the most part, save for forcing him to marry and the occasions in which he called Draco to torture his fellow Death Eaters for their failures. But the threat was far from over. The need to perform this well still stood no matter how the internal mechanizations of their union shook out. If the Dark Lord won, his victory becoming surer each day, then this would be the rest of their lives. He and Valeria would be left no choice but to maintain the charade forever.

 _“This is your new task. Bring her into the fold, fight well and keep her in line with our goals. You will be the head of your own family the second you put the ring on her finger,”_ Lucius said one night, before Valeria had arrived at Malfoy Manor. The thought honestly made his skin crawl. Valeria had bossed him around his whole life, or at least tried, and he hadn’t the faintest idea of how it would work the other way around. But his rank was higher, it was primarily him being punished for not killing Dumbledore himself, and so the responsibility inevitably fell to him. He didn’t believe she was ready. She hadn’t seen or done what he had yet, despite all she had been through already, but he would have to help her act fast. He trusted her, but he needed to keep her safe at the same time or else he didn’t believe he would ever have a night’s peace again. As for the rest, she could be as free as she wanted within the confines of the new order, that he had no intention of standing in the way of. Nor did he truly think he could if he tried.

Valeria awoke slowly with a dry mouth and a headache, no doubt a result of her hasty consumption of wine and mead the night prior. She was sleeping incredibly close to her edge of the bed and adjusted as she sat up, noticing Draco’s absence on the empty side. She almost thought the night before had not been real as a result, but sure enough Draco roused her from that fantasy.

“Good morning,” he said low from his place lounging on the sofa. Valeria immediately noticed the pile of presents.

“Are those…?” she asked groggily.

“Wedding presents,” he said dryly.

“Aren’t we supposed to open them with people?” she asked, not knowing who those people would even be, in absence of a proper wedding party. Draco shrugged.

“I think we’re on own for this one,” he said. Valeria slowly rose and put on her nightrobe. She made way on her morning routine in the bathroom to freshen up, feeling quite awkward and odd about Draco being present in the other room. She had never shared a space like this, save for her dorm-mates, and this felt far more intimate for comfort. She rushed over to the vanity, upon which all her glamours had been moved to from her former room, to finish up her daily facial routine.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without all that on,” Draco said.

“Would you like to?” Valeria said almost half jokingly as she began.

For the first time in a while, Draco laughed a little. “You mean this whole time, all I had to do was ask?”

“Have you really been that curious all these years?” she asked, turning to face him. He shrugged.

“I mean, kind of, I guess,” he said.

“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint you,” she said turning back to her mirror. The glamours were magical in nature, from the spells to the salves, so the best way to undo them was with magic. She tapped her wand to her head and then used several incantations her mother had taught her to silently remove the rest of the adjustments from her face. Hardly a soul had seen her looking less than perfect, especially in better times. The glamours could endure through most stressful events or weather conditions and it had long since become a great comfort to have a mask every day that revealed nothing. She knew what people thought of her, especially when she was a child and had an eerily mature face, but she was so accustomed to the pressure of perfection that she would rather have remarks made about her than face the world with her true face. When she was finished, she took a breath and turned to face Draco. “Here I am,” she said.

To Draco, most of the changes were not so drastic as to notice on first glance. It was odd, studying her face as if he didn’t know her at all, but did so regardless. Her hair was the same color, but there were stragglers that did not keep in place, nor did her hair fall perfectly straight as it usually did. It may have even been frizzing a tad in the humid summer morning. She had blue circles under her eyes. They weren’t too dark, but they were certainly present. In fact, her eyelashes appeared to have shrunk and her eyebrows were thicker than before. The shape of her nose had changed too. Barely noticeable, it the bridge was not as straight nor the nostrils so small. Finally, the color on her face was spread more thought. Her cheeks were ruddier and he could even see a couple remains of blemishes scattered on her face. Her lips too were a touch thinner.

“It’s not that different,” he said. He was oddly captivated by it, feeling something uncertain about being so intimately familiar with how she really looked.

“Did you think I was actually a troll?” she asked, not knowing what he was expecting.

“The thought did cross my mind at one point,” he said. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror.

“If you’re quite finished, I’ll be going about my business,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “No one’s going to bother us all day. No one will see you.”

“I like having them on,” she said.

“I can’t stop you, but I don’t mind it,” he said. The truth was he liked seeing her this way, at least for once. Her face was easier to read, every feeling clearly displayed. He found it refreshing. “The coffee’s going cold anyway.”

“Warm it up for me then, or can you not do magic?” she asked. To her surprise, he laughed a little again.

“Then come open some of these presents. I’m excited to see what our loved ones got us,” he said sarcastically.

“Are you that childish that you care that much about gifts for a wedding you didn’t want?” she asked.

“We might as well get something out of this,” Draco said with another shrugged. Valeria sighed and relented for the moment, taking a seat opposite him on the sofa. She poured her coffee while Draco retrieved a few boxes and cards. He opened the first box and had a nonchalant reaction to its contents.

“It’s just fabric,” he said. Valeria reached over and yanked the card off the box. She read it aloud as she opened it.

“ _His and hers fine fabrics to send to your tailor or seamstress respectively for the crafting of fine robes. Congratulations. Signed, the Parkinson Family_ ,” Valeria said. “How thoughtful.” Draco set that box aside and went for a large package that he carefully set on the floor, complaining about its weight. He opened the box, handing Valeria the card, and Valeria looked on as he unwrapped a carefully packaged glass bowl from the box. Draco looked unimpressed as Valeria read the card aloud.

 _“Dear Draco and Valeria, we hope that you will enjoy this for many years to come. You will find on each piece a family crest designed for you, but that you may change in the future according to your tastes. We hope it serves you well and you both take pride in the union of our families. With Love, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy,”_ Valeria read. Draco handed Valeria the china bowl and she looked at the new crest with a raised brow. Printed at the bottom of the white bowl, it appeared to be identical to the Malfoy family crest, the only minor change being black winged crows alongside the serpentine figures and the addition of the Winters family motto in addition to the Malfoy’s. “Purity always conquers, by any means necessary.”

“Has a nice ring to it,” Draco said sarcastically. “Seems like it’s a whole set.”

Valeria handed the bowl back to him, feeling unsettled about being a Malfoy and having nearly forgotten about her change in name. Draco shoved the box aside as delicately as he could and went for more presents. Most of the gift were the dullest, uninspired gifts imaginable from acquaintances and distant relatives. They gifted things like linens, curtains, luxury foreign sweets and the like. Valeria didn’t particularly mind for she didn’t really want anything, but it did give her and Draco cause to laugh a little about it, which was a welcome distraction.

Draco handed her a little box with her name on it. The card only read “ _We’ll talk soon. —Daphne.”_ Valeria was grateful for Daphne’s brevity and tore into the package. She was relieved the find Konstantin’s book on dark magic safely returned. The book fell partially open revealing the poison vial that Daphne must have tucked away inside.

“What’s that?” Draco asked. Valeria managed to hide the poison vial by propping the book up towards her.

“Konstantin’s book on the Dark Arts that Daphne was holding onto for me,” she said.

“Right. Looks interesting,” he said. Valeria nodded and carefully set the book aside as Draco passed another small gift. “This is from my aunt and uncle.” Valeria hesitantly unwrapped the gift and the box inside, nervous about what sort of object Bellatrix would decide to give her. Inside the box was a small jar of thick, dark red liquid and a little pamphlet.

“Dove’s blood,” Valeria said, reading from the pamphlet. She was aware of the magical uses of dove’s blood, mainly for dark potions and tinctures. Draco held up his own gift from his aunt and uncle.

“A glass eye,” he said. It was interesting and expensive gift. Valeria had to admit she was morbidly fascinated with both of the objects. Draco received a book on alchemy from Nott, which was at least thoughtful, but Crabbe and Goyle sent only gag gifts, which were largely worthless. Draco too acknowledged this by tossing the gifts into a pile. With only two boxes left, Draco handed Valeria one neatly wrapped one. “This is from me.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” Valeria said.

“You weren’t supposed to. It’s tradition for the…groom to give the, uh, bride something the morning after the wedding. At least, that’s what mother said,” Draco said nervously. Valeria unwrapped the box to find a luxurious and ornate bottle of perfume. She lifted the cap and inhaled the scent, smiling.

“Lilacs,” she said. “Thank you, Draco.” He nodded in response, seeming a little bit pleased with himself that the gift went over well. He passed her the final present.

“From your mother,” he said. The card only read their names with no further sentiments written in it. Valeria found inside the wrapping a white leather photo album, the edges embossed with elegant lines, and two separate portraits with formal photos of herself and Draco, respectively. In fine gold lettering, she read _Draco and Valeria Malfoy_. It made her cringe slightly and Draco rose upon seeing what it was. He sat beside her on the other sofa, keeping a polite distance between them.

Valeria opened it, finding photos of their parents posing with each of them as infants, each marked and dated. The next were filled with photos from childhood; some in which she and Draco were pictured together and some apart, such as she and Draco feeding the Malfoy peacocks at an Easter party hosted by the Malfoys or the two of them posing outside the fortress home of the Winters family on the edge of the valley lake. The latter in particular made Valeria homesick.

“I can’t believe they dressed us up like that,” Draco said, revolted by the outdated fashions they were wearing in the photographs. Draco turned the next few pages himself, landing on a picture of them standing side-by-side at Platform 9 ¾, Draco scowling and Valeria smiling politely. The picture was dated 1 September 1991. On the opposite page was the first group portrait in the Slytherin common room of all the students from their year. They lingered on the photographs, but neither of them said a word.

They paged through the years, even the times when she and Draco were at each other’s throats, there were still pictures from soirées and events. It seemed that from these years the only time in which they were happily pictured together was at the Quidditch World Cup, posing with the Minister of Magic in the top box. The photographic journey lightened, and Valeria reminisced in silence again over the two photographs of them from the Yule Ball. Draco too seemed moved by them, though he said nothing.

There obviously was little photographic evidence of their sixth year, save for the Slytherin common room portrait. Otherwise, it was like they had disappeared that year and Valeria concluded that in a way, they certainly had. There was a clipping of their engagement announcement from _The Daily Prophet_ and the rest of the pages were blank to fill in themselves. Valeria closed the album and set it on the table amongst the discarded wrappings and other opened gifts. Seeing their Hogwarts years preoccupied Valeria’s mind with the uncertainty of what was to come of the upcoming year.

“What’s Hogwarts going to be like this year?” she asked Draco darkly.

Draco sighed. “Different.”

“I know,” she said, annoyed. “I’m asking _how_ different.”

Draco paused for a moment. “I don’t know all the details. I’m not included on much anymore, at least not in depth. The Carrows will be teachers and Defense of the Dark Arts is just going to be Dark Arts. Maybe we’ll actually learn something. They’re going to be stricter with nearly everything, harsher punishments, things like that.”

“Muggle Studies is going to be required, right? What about Professor Burbage?” Valeria said, having remembered Burbage’s positive outlook on muggles. Draco went pale and looked as though he was going to be sick.

“She’s dead,” he said quietly.

“You know for certain?” Valeria said, surprised, but understanding that the news shouldn’t have come as a shock.

“I saw it,” was all Draco said. Seeing his distress and feeling guilty for what he had seen, she put her hand gently on his knee in a small attempt to bring some comfort. It was quite plain to her that there was pain he was hiding, things he had seen or even done that he was not yet prepared to fully tell. She felt deep sympathy and anger on his behalf, but she was not going to push it now as it appeared to be far too fresh for him.

A rapping on the window startled them both and they looked to see a black, angry looking owl, tapping its beak on the glass. Draco rose to retrieve what it carried, two thick envelopes, and recoiled when the owl pecked at him before flying away.

“Fucker,” Draco said in annoyed pain. He walked back, looking at the letters, and handed one to her to addressed to _Valeria T. Malfoy_. The Hogwarts seal was on the back of the envelope and inside she first noticed a large badge. Holding it in her hand, she was shocked to see the words _HEAD GIRL_ on it. She looked up at Draco, who too held a similar pin in his hand and shared with her an exhausted, but knowing, look. Valeria removed the parchment and read.

 _Dear Mrs. Malfoy_

_I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected from the entirety of seventh year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the position of Head Girl. This esteemed appointment carries with it many additional privileges and responsibilities that I am confident you will employ wisely. Your name shall be added to the long and proud list of those who have held this position in previous years in the Trophy Room at the Castle._

_Please see the following pages for a comprehensive itemization of rules, regulations and duties regarding this position. Your Head Boy counterpart is Mr. Draco Malfoy._

_With the many changes occurring at Hogwarts for the 1997-1998 schoolyear there are some details that are not included. These shall be disclosed to and discussed with you in the very near future. I appreciate your patience and look forward to the upcoming start of term._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Severus Snape_

“Shit,” Draco cursed as he finished reading himself.

“This doesn’t make sense. I was never even a prefect,” Valeria said.

“I don’t think that matters. That was never a requirement anyway,” he said gravely.

“What _does_ it mean, then?” she asked.

“I’m not sure yet, but I think it’s going to be a lot different for us than other Head Boys and Girls. We’ll find out soon enough,” Draco said, defeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of filler, my apologies, but I wanted to get into Draco's head a little bit and add some lightheartedness given how bleak things are at present. Things will definitely pick up after this. Thanks for sticking with me, apologies for any embarrassing errors and for the length. Hope you are all staying well.


	13. To Have and to Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going take a dark turn near the end of this, as a warning. Magical violence ahead.

_"Are we to understand that you dare to defend your husband's warcrimes?"_

_"And what of my own, sir?" she asked, hatred burning under her skin._

_*****_

Diagon Alley was a dark shadow of its former self.

Valeria kept the hood of her dark robes up as she looked around the near deserted street, walking arm in arm with Draco. Shopping for school necessities was almost more difficult now than it was back when the hub of wizarding commerce was packed with people, given how many of the shops were boarded up and closed, with wanted posters and Death Eater propaganda plastered all over their boarded-up windows. Valeria slowed down her pace when one poster in particular caught her attention.

_ATTENTION YOUTH OF THE WIZARDING WORLD_

_KEEP BLOODLINES PURE_

_PAIR EARLY WITH THOSE LOYAL TO THE CAUSE_

_FOLLOW THE MALFOY EXAMPLE_

Below the lines of text was a large picture of Valeria and Draco standing stiff and stern on their wedding day and this was the first time she saw any of the photos taken on that day outside of the paper. From a superficial glance, they looked exactly how they were expected to look; Elegant, poised and proper. She even admitted to herself that dress robes suited Draco very well. But looking at their expressions and their eyes they looked like upright corpses.

“Just ignore it,” Draco advised and she looked up at him to see the sad, guilty expression that he had worn so often as of late. “Come on. We’re on a schedule.” The schedule, of course. Draco had been on edge all morning. Valeria was set to attend her first meeting with the Death Eaters, seeing for the first time the Dark Lord himself. Draco had done his best to protest her attendance, arguing with his father for quite a while in the confines of the latter’s study. Valeria had overheard Draco’s impassioned anger and fear the other night, having walked passed the study on her way back from the gardens.

She tried to take her mind off the impending event of that evening, seeing the wanted posters for muggleborns, known rebels and, of course, Harry Potter along the streets. Vendors in makeshift stalls were shouting to them, promising wares that would spy on their enemies and trinkets that could control people from afar. Just from a glance, Valeria could see that they were peddling junk, but she kept her head down for the most part. She only removed her hood when they entered a nearly vacant and dreary Flourish & Blott’s. The bookseller nearly jumped as the bell rang, signaling their entrance. Recognizing them, he flashed a nervous smile. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” he greeted. “What a wonderful surprise. Marriage becomes you, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Valeria said. It hadn’t even been a week since the wedding.

“How can I be of assistance?” the bookseller asked. Draco removed his Hogwarts supply list from his pocket and directed the bookseller to the book list.

“Two new copies each of these,” Draco said flatly.

“Yes, of course, of course,” the bookseller said. Valeria tapped Draco on the shoulder.

“I’m going to have a look around,” she said.

“Don’t leave the shop,” he replied. She rolled her eyes.

“I won’t,” she said, annoyed, as she walked off. Nearby, she found a copy of _Ancient and Dark Mysteries,_ a book she had wanted for some time. She called back to Draco. “Can I get this one?”

He looked back at her, but didn’t even bother reading the title. “Whatever you want,” he said in a short, flat tone, though genuine. She tucked it under her arm with a soft smile and moved further into the shop, perusing as she went.

She moved around the empty aisles, formed by stacked books, already noticing a stark difference in the titles for sale. She was heading back toward the older, more used books, and even then, the titles were all stories and subjects primarily concerning dark magic. To her surprise, Valeria felt quite comfortable, even fascinated, in such a place. The titles promised power and intrigue, something that was seductive to her while she was now at her most powerless. She was so consumed with them, that she failed to notice the shop bell ringing and nearly jumped out of her skin at the harsh whisper of her name.

She turned, nearly dropping the book in her hand to see the pitied faces of Arthur, Molly and Ginny Weasley. Ginny rushed over to her while her parents approached with more hesitation.

“I saw Malfoy at the counter and came looking for you,” Ginny explained. “Is it true?! They made you _marry_ him?”

“Draco and I married on Saturday,” Valeria said, choosing her words carefully, full of fear and experiencing the showcase humiliation of her marriage all over again. Her words only fueled the fire in Ginny’s eyes.

“We can get you out. Right now. I can distract him and we can get you out of here,” Ginny said.

“Ginny,” Molly hissed through her teeth. Valeria was half-tempted by the offer for a moment, but only for a moment. The reality of Ginny’s plot would end in nothing but pain or worse for all involved. The Weasley home was being heavily monitored, that much Valeria knew at least. If she did escape, she would be quickly found and the Weasleys severely punished. What she feared, more than anything, was what would happen to Draco should he fail, so to speak, in the responsibilities thrust upon him as her husband in the new order. Her promise from last year held true; That she would keep him alive no matter the cost to her. Finally, she was not about to helplessly bounce from side-to-side in yet another falsified kidnapping plot. It never worked, never brought her comfort or longlasting sanctuary, and she was not about to attempt it again.

“I appreciate your concern,” Valeria began with a polite smile. “But there is no need. I am quite happy with my marriage and my husband.” Ginny was shocked and appalled, taking a step closer.

“I don’t believe it for a second. We can help you. You can help us,” she insisted, whispering. The girls were mere inches apart. Valeria looked around and leaned over.

“Do you still have the potions I made at your house? Did you preserve them?” Valeria asked. Ginny nodded. “Good. Put them in vials, bring as much as you can to Hogwarts. You will need them.”

Ginny looked at Valeria in shock. “What do you know?”

“Never approach me like this again,” Valeria said sternly, remembering Draco’s many warnings. “For both our sakes.” Valeria attempted to push past Ginny, but Ginny grabbed Valeria by the arm.

“What do you know?” Ginny hissed, panicked.

“Valeria!”

Valeria looked up to see Draco marching toward them, face twisted in anger and moving sure of purpose. Molly and Arthur for once knew better than to try to ignore him as they might once have and moved out of his way, though Arthur moved to draw his wand to protect his daughter. Draco pulled out his wand as he got close.

“Get your hands off my _wife_ , Weasley,” he said in his characteristic tone of disgust.

“You don’t own her,” Ginny snapped back.

“Ginny,” Arthur scolded with a hiss. “Stop this right now.” Looking at her father, Ginny relented and Valeria pulled away from the girl’s grasp.

“It’s time to go,” Draco said, putting his wand away.

“Alright, I’ll just bring this to counter—” Valeria said in her default serene politeness, as if nothing were amiss.

“Already paid for,” he said. “Let’s go.” Valeria nodded and walked past the Weasleys toward him and Draco put his hand on her back as she neared, urging her in the opposite direction.

“I—It was nice to see you, Valeria,” Molly said, her eyes full of fear, trying to cover for what happened or at least trying to ease the tension. Draco nearly spun on his heel.

“That would be _Mrs. Malfoy_ to you. I suggest you get used to it,” he spat. Valeria maneuvered her own arm around his free arm, the other carrying the bag of books he had just purchased. She could have killed him in that moment, but mustered a laugh.

“My apologies for him. I’m sure you know how excited newlyweds can get,” she said. She could see by their startled and angry expressions that the Weasleys did not buy the bit for a moment. “I’m sure we’ll see you at school, Weasley. Good day.”

Draco took the lead once more, walking quickly out of the shop and ignoring the anxiously polite farewell of the bookseller. He kept up his quickened pace as they moved down the street, single minded and furious with fear. He made a sharp turn at the first dark alley and released her.

“What the hell were you doing?” he said, his eyes wild with worry.

“They cornered me, wasn’t it obvious?” Valeria said, protesting the scolding. “What was I supposed to do? Cause a scene?!”

“You should have called for me immediately,” Draco argued.

“Scream for you across the entire shop? That’s ridiculous! I was handling it just fine on my own.”

“Is that what you call it? Why was Weasley grabbing you? What did they want?”

“She was asking about our marriage. I told her I was ‘perfectly happy, thank you very much’, and she didn’t believe me so she grabbed me when I was trying to get away,” Valeria said, only telling half the truth.

“Really? You expect me to believe that? I’m not bloody stupid!”

“You think people aren’t at best curious, at worst worried, about us being married at seventeen years old within a week of becoming engaged? You’re a goddamn idiot if you don’t think people are going to at least ask questions!” Valeria said.

“It is none of their damn business. I don’t care what any one of them think and neither should you! That is the least of your concerns!” he said, nearly shouting.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You cannot be seen having polite conversations with known blood traitors,” Draco said sternly. “People are already suspicious enough of you as it is—”

“Have you forgotten who I am?” Valeria asked, furious. “My blood is just as pure as yours and my family has spent generations fighting for the cause. I helped you get Dumbledore killed and used dark magic, and broke dozens of laws in the process. My father and brother died for the Dark Lord! I am the last of the Winters’s legacy and there should be no doubt where my loyalties are.”

“You’re a _Malfoy_ now,” he spat. “I am your family now and that’s the only legacy that should matter to you. Your brother died for _you_ and everyone knows it. You spent a lot of time with those traitors and were _friendly_ with them before the Dark Lord returned. You kept suspicion off you from them, but to our side it looks like you chose _them_ , don’t you understand?!”

Valeria was nearly in tears. “I have been on your side since the beginning. I have proven that over and over and I let _you_ drag me into _your_ shit. How dare you not believe me after everything I’ve done for you!”

“After you lied to me about being in their little DA club? How you _agreed_ to be used as bait and did nothing while your father and Konstantin died and my father went to Azkaban? I worried about you for months and you lied to me for an entire year! If any other Death Eaters find out about that, you and I are both _dead_. But you don’t seem to care, since I see you off in a corner talking with the same traitors. So tell me, Valeria, what the hell am I supposed to believe?!” Draco raged. Valeria was silent, a couple of tears falling down her face. She stood on a few moments to compose her thoughts. 

“Konstantin was right about you,” she said, almost whispering.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, exacerbated.

“In his final letter to me, he told me to stay away from you. I thought he was wrong. I thought I knew you better, but he was right…They were _all_ right…I should have let you fail last year, even if it meant I’d die too. Anything to not be married to you now,” she said, immediately regretting what she said, but she was far too hurt and angry to apologize then, even as she watched the hurt of her words wash over him. He looked as though he were on the precipice of breaking again, like he had many times last year, only this time it was because of her. The moment of silence felt like a decade before he finally spoke.

“We have a few more errands to run. We’re running out of time,” he said.

“You can finish without me. I’m going home,” Valeria said. He took her by the arm again, though not roughly.

“We have to be seen together. We’re an example. You’re staying here,” he said. He began to walk and she followed suit, pulling her hood up to hide her face, which she can imagine looked as miserable as she felt. No amount of glamours in the world could hide it now.

Returning to Malfoy Manor, Narcissa was anxiously awaiting their return. It had been a fight for Draco to get his mother to let him out of her sight for an extended period of time. Narcissa was obviously relieved by their safe return, no matter how exhausted the two looked. Draco passed the purchases he had to Valeria.

“Take these upstairs, please?” he asked. Without even looking at him or acknowledging him in any way, Valeria walked off up the stairs with their school supplies. Narcissa waited until Valeria was well out of ear shot to turn to her son with a raised brow.

“What did you do?” she asked, accusingly. Draco rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed now was a lecture from his mother.

He shook his head. “It hasn’t even been a week and she wants to kill me.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Narcissa said, crossing her arms. He made a move for the stairs.

“I have to talk to father,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. Their last stop had been in Knockturn Alley, to make some trades for his father. Narcissa grabbed Draco by the arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“He can wait. We’ll talk first,” she said. She gestured for him to follow her and he rolled his eyes again, but knew better than to argue, even if he had the energy to. She shut the door of a small storage room in the Manor and turned to him. “What happened?”

Draco recounted what happened at Flourish & Blott’s and at first his mother seemed to agree that Valeria could have handled the Wealsey encounter differently, but when he arrived at their argument in the alley, her expression turned grave. Draco was careful to leave out the details of Valeria’s DA involvement, but otherwise told the argument the best he could. Narcissa was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You were wrong, Draco,” she said.

“How? How was I wrong? I have to keep us both safe and I panicked, for good reason. Aunt Bellatrix has been suspicious of her, and her family, since the Department of Mysteries. I couldn’t let Valeria keep believing she could just chat them up like before,” Draco said.

“Maybe,” Narcissa said. “But you know well that that is no excuse for what you did. You need to apologize.” 

“She told me that she should have let me die!” Draco said, almost offended that his own mother was not at once on his side.

“After you berated her and implied treason. She is not your schoolmate anymore, she is your wife,” Narcissa said in a graver tone than she had ever scolded him with before, taking a step toward him. “I know this is difficult for you, believe me if I could take on your pain, I would, but you need to keep in mind what this is like for _her_. You should never speak to your wife like that, ever. You told her that you are her family now, and the same is true for you.” Draco listened, looking at the floor as she continued. “Bad blood between you two is more dangerous than whoever she runs into in a shop. Do you remember the story of the reed and the oak?”

“Yes,” Draco said dryly.

“If you do not bend, you both will break,” Narcissa said. “You will fix this before the meeting. Go clear your head and then set this right.” She gestured toward the door.

Draco took the long way back to the chamber he shared with Valeria, trying to avoid confronting her as long as possible. He stopped first by his father’s study and discussed the trades he made in Knockturn Alley. His father seemed too distracted, a shadow of his former imposing self, to notice that anything was wrong with Draco. Not that Draco blamed him; From where he stood, his father was doing the best he could, whatever little that might have been worth.

He wandered off then around the halls as the late afternoon dragged on, turning around and retracing his steps in a futile effort to stave off the inevitable. What he told his mother was true; He panicked. He could not bring himself to think of the possibility of what would happen to Valeria if she made a mistake, however innocent or unintentional. Even if he made a storm out of nothing, he didn’t know what else to do. He pinched the skin between his brows, wracking his already overburdened mind of what to say and how to say it.

He concluded that he did trust her and his eruption was rooted once more in his guilt. After everything he put her through, after all she had done for him for all this time, how could he not trust her? The DA business, still bothered him, he had to admit, but those days were long over. Potter was gone and a return was nowhere in sight. The Order of the Phoenix was scattered and Dumbledore was dead. The Dark Lord had an unyielding grip on the wizarding world. Treason would bring Valeria nothing and she had knowingly done nothing that he could see to make him think otherwise.

Her comments hurt him though. Perhaps his mother was right about that. He knew how mean she could be, having seen her talk about all the people she disliked behind their backs a thousand times. He had been on the receiving end of many a verbal lashing, none of which wished him dead, though. Time was running out. It was more important tonight than ever for them to be perfect. He approached the door of their shared chamber and with a defeated sigh, turned the handle.

She immediately looked up at him, obviously in tears just moments before, and the guilt welled up in his gut again. She looked away from him as he shut the door behind him and he hung the outer layer of his robes on an ornate wooden rack. He was going to sit opposite her, but at the last second chose to sit on the same sofa, though keeping his distance. She still would not look at him.

“Can we talk?” he asked softly. She only nodded in response, looking at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted quietly. “You didn’t deserve that.” He waited for a response that never came. “After everything that’s happened…I got scared.” A starkly clear picture of Valeria thrashing, screaming on the stone floor of the Astronomy Tower flashed across his mind’s eye, as it often did, and he nearly winced. He despised how paralyzed he was with fear then; Too cowardly to do the deed himself and therefore utterly impotent in saving her. He hated that about himself. “I was wrong. Val?”

She looked up at him. He hadn’t called her that in years, and he was the only one that ever did. She was so tired, so very miserable, it was plain as day on her face and it seemed all he ever did was make it that much worse. Her countenance reflected back how he felt himself, how he had felt for quite some time and it was then that he believed he understood what his mother was trying to tell him without outright stating it; He needed her.

Presumptuously, perhaps selfishly, he placed his hand gently on her shoulder and leaned in close. “We can’t fall apart now. Not yet. Not anymore. I need you with me in this, in everything. You’re the only thing that matters to me,” he said, cringing at himself for how stupid he must have sounded. To his surprise, he felt her body relax some under his hand.

“I didn’t mean it,” she said, barely audible. “What I said about letting you d…I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” he said, truthfully and grateful to hear it.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” he said, slowly taking her left hand in his, running his thumb over the lumpy stones of her ring. The metaphorical weight of such a little object struck him deeper at that moment for a reason he couldn’t find. What he had known for a while cried out in his mind; They weren’t ready for this. His parents had warned him marriage was hard, but did it have to be this hard? He didn’t want to let go of this moment of peace, of quiet relief. His own heart clung to it like a dog guarding its table scraps. The longing and warmth flew from his as his forearm began to sting and burn.

He winced, and instinctively clamped his hand down around hers, though not enough to hurt her. She drew closer to him in concern and reached her other hand for his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She reached for him, but he stopped her, pulling his left sleeve up to reveal what she had only ever just partially seen. She pulled away for a moment before leaning back in, watching the Dark Mark’s serpent appear to slither in its black ink, so starkly black in contrast to Draco’s pale, veiny skin.

“It’s time to go,” he said through a sharp exhale.

They walked together, Draco grasping her hand tight as he led her through the halls, their hard-soled shoes clacking on the stone floor.

“Do not look at him unless spoken to. Do not speak unless spoken to. If he does talk to you, tell him whatever he wants to hear and address him as ‘My Lord’ as much as possible. Is that clear?” Draco said, low and anxious, regretting having less time to prepare Valeria than he had originally planned.

“Yes,” Valeria nodded, steeling her resolve and gathering as much inner strength as she could muster. “What is this meeting for?”

“Looking for Potter or his allies, or anyone whose blood purity hasn’t been verified at Hogwarts. We’re Head Boy and Girl, according to Snape anyway, so that’s why you have to be there,” Draco explained. “And since you’re one of us now, officially.” They met Lucius and Narcissa at the door to the drawing room and Draco released Valeria’s hand. His parents looked more anxious than Valeria had seen in quite some time.

“Have you prepared her sufficiently?” Lucius asked.

“Yes,” Draco replied.

“Best not keep him waiting then,” Lucius said, turning away. Narcissa gave Valeria a knowing nod as she joined her own husband at his side. Draco released Valeria’s hand unexpectedly and stood beside her, behind the elder Malfoys. Lucius opened the door to the once glorious drawing room, now dim and dark with a great wooden table at its center and an ornate fireplace at the far end of the room. Several Death Eaters were already seated at their rightful places, including Professor Snape, who showed no emotion as they entered. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as the Malfoys took their place a fair distance from where the Dark Lord sat, noting their place in his ranks. Keeping her gaze low, she could make out the face of the Dark Lord, pale and serpentine with red eyes. She swallowed her shock and was about to follow Draco to their seats when she heard his clear and high voice.

“The young Mrs. Malfoy,” he said. Valeria could hear his sickly smile. Stopped in her tracks by fear and unsure of what to do, she bent in a low curtsey. The Dark Lord laughed, followed by several others at the table, notably Bellatrix. “And she’s polite too. The Winters’s reputation for etiquette certainly precedes you. Come closer, Valeria. Sit down, Draco.”

Valeria swallowed and moved along the outside of the table, catching Draco’s fear stricken eyes as he obeyed the Dark Lord’s order. Her heart raced, perhaps skipping a beat or two, as she drew nearer, the Dark Lord’s smile making her feel ill. She stopped at a polite distance, only then noticing the massive snake curled around the back of the Dark Lord’s ornate chair, nearly throne like, staring at her with an intense, unblinking gaze.

“I’ve been told you are adjusting quite well here and to your new position,” the Dark Lord said.

“Yes, my Lord. I have never been prouder nor more grateful to be where I feel I belong,” Valeria said, mustering stoic confidence.

“You believe you belong with us?” the Dark Lord asked curiously. Valeria struck down her panic.

“My Lord, my father used to tell me tales of your greatness. I feel I have always belonged to your cause. I belong on the side that seeks to destroy those who have destroyed my family,” Valeria said.

“You desire vengeance?” he asked.

“Forgive my selfishness, my Lord, but I must admit, part of me does,” Valeria said, gambling on the answer.

“Not at all. Many have been wronged for far too long by my enemies. You shall have your vengeance in time,” he said. Valeria’s immense relief could not be understated.

“I humbly thank you, my Lord. I look forward to serving,” she said. He reached out a pale, bony hand that Valeria would think dead were it not attached to him.

He chuckled a little. “Wisdom from the mouth of babes, as they say. Your wand,” he ordered. Without hesitation, Valeria reached into her robes and handed him her wand, handle first. He let it go and by his own magic, it floated in the air. She was at once powerless; The very symbol of her magical abilities at the Dark Lord’s mercy, and herself with it.

“The wood and core?” he asked.

“Rowan and dragon heartstring, my Lord,” she answered true.

“Interesting combination,” he said, hovering his right hand above the levitating wand. “I can sense that this wand has performed dark magic.”

“Indeed, my Lord.”

“Is it true that you performed a dark spell the night you were rescued from the Order of the Phoenix?”

“My Lord, it is.”

“Why?”

“To conceal myself from the Order, so they would be unable to hide me elsewhere,” Valeria lied. After a moment of consideration, the Dark Lord let the wand fall into his hand and returned it to Valeria. With a small wave of his hand, the chair beside Draco pulled back.

“Thank you. Take your place beside your husband,” he said, turning away from her. Valeria bowed her head to him and followed his order, tucking her wand back in her robes. Draco’s hand immediately grasped her wrist under the table as soon as she was seated.

“On the advice of Severus, I have concluded that our search for Potter and his currently missing followers, will occur on the Hogwarts Express, once the train has traveled well into the countryside. Dolohov, Yaxley, Rookwood and the Carrows, you’ll be in charge of that and we will discuss details in a bit,” the Dark Lord commanded. A round of yeses and nods went around the table. “Remember, if Potter is found, he is mine to kill.” All were in agreement. “Severus, explain to Draco and Valeria their duties.” Valeria looked up as Snape turned his eyes on them.

“I trust you read through the material I sent to you regarding your positions at Hogwarts,” Snape said and the two nodded in response. “In addition to the duties that you are already familiar with, you will have the privilege of leading disciplinary action and using whatever force you deem necessary. I retain suspicion of several students, even amongst those of pure pedigree, and as such I expect you to report and act upon any suspicious behavior you may find with swift and immediate action. Is this quite understood?”

Draco and Valeria nodded. Valeria wanted to pretend she did not know what he meant, but she was no longer so naïve. Violence was certain to become a routine staple at Hogwarts, and she was compelled to implement it, along with Draco. She had hoped that behaving would be enough, that marrying Draco would be enough, that obeying and remaining safely under the radar of the Dark Lord would be enough to get her through this war. Valeria had felt as though Snape and the Dark Lord anticipated this desire and sought to punish her further.

The conversation continued and Valeria kept her eyes glued to the table. Draco’s hand had not moved from her wrist and she was impressed, so to speak, with how stoic he had remained in the face of all of this. He was more well-practiced, sure, but he was always someone she could easily read. The Dark Lord continued to give assignments and orders out for different tasks and missions, suddenly ignoring Valeria’s existence, which she was relieved for. The meeting dragged on and on until she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name.

“Valeria. If you would do me the favor of fetching a guest from the cellar, you'll know which one. Have her come quietly,” the Dark Lord ordered. Draco squeezed Valeria’s hand as she rose.

“Of course, my Lord,” Valeria said with a polite nod. She caught Draco’s worried expression as she turned away and left the room. She descended the stairs to the cellar and once out of sight, standing just before the door to the refashioned prison, she held herself up with her hand on the wall. She panted, dry heaving, gasping for breath but trying to keep quiet. All the panic she shoved down erupted back out when she was out of sight. She took too much time to compose herself and kept going, still trembling some after recovering. 

She used magic to open the door and illuminated the tip of her wand as she stepped into the darkness of the same cellar where she too was a prisoner, albeit briefly. Valeria looked around fearfully, moving deeper into cold room. She caught Ollivander, and found him asleep, taking a second to watch for his breathing. He was even more worse for wear than she remembered.

“I’m looking for a woman,” she called out, not knowing who exactly she was even supposed to find and was far too terrified to ask for further information.

“Over here,” a weak female voice said further ahead. Valeria tentatively walked to it, the clack of her shoes ringing out a cold echo. As she approached, the light from her wand illuminated the woman’s face and body. The woman blinked and turned away from the sudden presence of bright light, but soon looked into Valeria’s eyes. Valeria nearly dropped her wand, recognizing her at once.

“My god…You look like him,” Jane Masters said, tears in her eyes. “W—Why are you down here? What’s to become of me?” Valeria gripped her wand with an iron grasp, trying not to shake.

“I’ve been ordered to bring you upstairs. That’s all I know,” Valeria said. Jane Masters inhaled sharply and gulped.

“Valeria, you need to listen to me. I don’t know anything. I’m not involved with the Order at all…You must believe me,” she said desperately.

“That’s not my concern. Stand up, please,” Valeria ordered. Jane tearfully crawled to her feet, but was hunched over slightly still. She took a step toward Valeria.

“You live here, yes? Then you must know a way out. You can get us both of here right now,” Jane pleaded.

“Walk forward, please,” Jane let out a small sob.

“I can tell you things, everything about your brother,” Jane said unmoving, Valeria behind with her wand aimed squarely at the back of the woman’s head. “He was good, Valeria. He wasn’t like the rest of them, I know it. You read my letter…you know I loved him. Konstantin wouldn’t want you to do this—”

Wordlessly, Valeria cast a curse that knocked Jane suddenly to the ground. Jane winced in pain. Seeing Jane slumped on the floor, Valeria hated herself, sick to her stomach at what she had done. She had to remain single-minded. She had to remember Draco and what would become of both him and herself should she fail even in this simple task.

“On your feet. And don’t say his name again,” Valeria spat with tears in her own eyes, unable to bear the thought of her brother, even the sound of his name, right now. Jane fortunately obeyed, sniffling every so often as they made their way out of the cellar and back up to the drawing room. Valeria kept her wand at the ready as the two arrivals stopped near the table.

“Ah, good. I didn’t think the mudblood would give you much trouble,” the Dark Lord said. Valeria’s eyes darted quickly to Draco, whose eyes were wide with horror. With only a wave of his hand, the Dark Lord launched Jane’s body into the air and slammed her hard onto the wooden table in the center of the room, drawing laughter from a couple of the Death Eaters. Jane cried out in pain, and attempted to struggle, but was magically pinned to the spot. “Come closer, Valeria.”

Valeria obeyed, approaching the table as if she were in a trance. She was so overwhelmed with fear, shock and more terror that she felt nearly nothing.

“Do you recognize her?” the Dark Lord asked.

“She’s Jane Masters, my Lord,” Valeria replied.

“Very good. A mudblood who used to work for Nimbus. She was found in hiding and suspected of some affiliation with our enemies. During her interrogation, Bellatrix happened upon a shocking discovery in her memories. Your very own brother, Valeria, some years ago was _romantically_ involved with this mudblood,” The Dark Lord said, disgust in his tone to revolted reactions from a few of the other Death Eaters in the room. “Were you aware of this, Valeria?”

“I became aware of it only after his death and long after they were involved. As far as I am aware, he learned the error of his ways and committed his life to your cause,” Valeria said, truthfully, heart pounding.

“Why do you think he ever saw anything worthwhile in her?” the Dark Lord asked.

“I am sorry to admit that I haven’t the slightest idea,” Valeria began, hearing Jane whimper at her words. “I am inclined to believe though that she seduced him with her stolen magic to purposefully undermine him and lead him astray,” Valeria said, reciting the Ministry’s recent propaganda.

“I too am of that opinion,” the Dark Lord said, to Valeria’s surprise, though she sensed he himself didn't fully believe it. “Would you like some vengeance now?”

“If it be your will, my Lord,” Valeria said, covering a gulp.

“A wise answer. Make her suffer for what she’s done. You know the curse,” the Dark Lord ordered. Valeria approached the side of the table and raised her wand, looking Jane in the eye. Valeria knew enough about dark magic to know that she had to mean it, but she also knew that she did not want to see Jane suffer at all. Quickly, in her mind, Valeria tried to muster all the rage she could. She had no anger towards Jane, but she had plenty to draw from given her brother’s short life and what he had endured. Valeria could summon fury for Jane’s impact on him and the ripple effect it caused. It was logically weak, but it would have to do.

“ _Crucio,_ ” she said through her teeth. She held steadfast as Jane screamed the most horrid, inhuman, cries she had ever heard, writhing and convulsing against the Dark Lord’s magical hold. Valeria felt as though she was permanently rooted to the spot, as the Dark Lord urged her on and many of the others seated amongst him cackled at Jane’s suffering. Valeria felt powerful, merciless, but could take no pleasure in any of it. Jane’s eyes begged for grace, but Valeria held firm, unable to grant her wish and unable to tear her own gaze away. Valeria heard little else, but her screams until the Dark Lord rose and using a wand not his own, cried out with pleasure.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

Jane’s screams ceased immediately and her limbs fell to the table with a horrible thud. Valeria’s curse was broken at the flash of the green light. Jane’s tearful eyes that were just one moment ago full of fear and pain, were blank, looking at nothing. Jane was dead.

And a part of Valeria died with her.

Draco kicked the door shut behind him and as soon as it latched, he felt Valeria’s legs weaken under her, having barely managed to hold herself up for the long walk back to their private chamber. He caught her in time to hold her up, but only just. Breathing heavy, he held her tighter and closer to his body than he ever had, his right arm steadfast around her waist, to keep her upright, and his left hand buried in her chestnut hair, pressing her head to his chest. He buried his face in her hair easily enough, she hadn’t grown hardly half an inch since fifth year. Even now the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. 

She wailed. And each horrible hell, brought another onslaught of barely contained tears to his own eyes. Her long, manicured, nails dug into his back and the harder she shuddered, the tighter he held her. He could feel her tears and snot wet the front of his clothes while she tried to speak, only mumbling incoherent soft consonants. He moved his arm from her waist, but her legs gave out from under her and he could only gently help her slump to the floor, still gripping onto him as if she were about to fall into a pit otherwise. He took her jaw in his hands and wiped what tears he could with his thumbs. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know...” he repeated as she trembled in his hands, holding her as if he were trying to keep the seams of her body from coming undone. 

“He—He loved her,” she sputtered out between cries. He didn’t know what she was talking about. It didn’t matter to him in the slightest. 

He pressed his forehead to her hers, whispering softly, “It was a test, and you passed. We'd already know if you failed. It’s not your fault...it’s not your fault...” over and over as if she would at some point believe him. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t—” she managed to say between gasps. He sat back and looked at her, still cradling her little jaw in his hands. 

“You can,” he gently insisted, trying not to lose control of his own emotions. “You can. You have to. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Ever. I promise, Val, I promise.”

His words were of little comfort, he knew, but they were all he had. He fumbled his arms around her, reaching behind her back and behind her knees and lifted her into his arms with all the strength he could muster, having been forced to lift her from an awkward position. She turned her head into his chest and he rushed her to the bed, setting her down gently at first before maneuvering himself to sit behind her. He pulled her into him again, his back against the stacked pillows and ornate headboard, his legs wide. She grasped for him as he brought his arms around her and clutched his arm for dear life.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…” he repeated in a whisper, gently resting his head on top of hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one, hopefully the next ones won't be this long. I apologize for the end there, but Valeria's character direction had to turn. We'll be leaving Malfoy Manor in the next chapter (thank god.) As always, thank you for sticking around and for the comments/kudos. They're all wonderful. I hope you are all staying safe and well.


	14. Start of Term

_"We were so stupid," she said, exacerbated._

_"Better stupid than dead," he replied._

_*****_

“Is this entirely necessary, Avery?” Lucius asked through his teeth. Avery smirked, enjoying mocking the Malfoy family.

“No exceptions, Lucius. Papers,” Avery ordered. Draco, Valeria and the elder Malfoys one by one handed over their documentation; Their _Proof of Blood Status_ , as it was so titled on the parchment itself. “Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy,” Avery said when Valeria handed the paper to him, and indeed _Valeria Terpsichore Malfoy_ was the identification there inscribed. Satisfied, Avery let the Malfoys pass onto Platform 9 ¾ proper where the Hogwarts Express sat, in all its glory, looming over the anxious parents and nervous students who shuffled about.

They had arrived early, but even then, the numbers of students were sparser than all the years past. No joy, no nervous excitement, no bittersweet farewells from families. Only downcast faces, holding each other tight before going on their ways. Draco and Valeria made their way to an empty part of the platform and then turned to face Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius, looking more withdrawn and haggard than ever, shook his son’s hand firmly.

“Make us proud. Keep your head down,” Lucius advised. He moved to Valeria while Narcissa embraced Draco. “Thank you for your…cooperation in everything.”

“Thank you for having me and all you’ve done for me, sir,” Valeria said, they were empty words, perhaps Lucius knew, but she could read guilt and despair on his face. They shared an awkward, familial hug and Narcissa held Valeria tight as soon as Lucius released the latter.

“Watch over him, please,” she whispered.

“I will,” Valeria whispered in return. Narcissa had tears in her eyes, but Lucius took his wife’s hand. With little further ceremony, Draco and Valeria boarded the Hogwarts Express bound for the castle, for the final start of term. They settled their things in an empty compartment, collected their notes and parchment for the prefects’ meeting and made their way to the prefects' carriage. Draco immediately pulled the curtains of the window shut. He knew all too well that his marriage was going to be the hottest gossip of the school at the start of term, and for both his and Valeria’s sakes, he wanted to stave off unwanted attention as long as possible.

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, trying to relax, but he kept making little bounces with his leg, anyway. Valeria was lost in her notes. It had been a last-minute write-up after the miserable lead-up to September the first. Helping Valeria return to functioning after witnessing the murder of Jane Masters had been a gargantuan task, but purely pragmatic. She was well enough now, likely as well as him which wasn’t much at this point, but it secretly broke his heart to watch her spirit die, and that was what now often kept him awake at night.

She was no longer nervous or fearful, rather she appeared to have hardly any feelings at all and he had begun to desperately miss her. He missed her little smirks, snide and sarcastic remarks, the way she would strut about like she owned each place she walked. She used to crack jokes. She used to love music. She loved dancing more than that. He at times, over the years, believed her favorite activity was scolding him whenever his actions agitated her. Even that stopped. She was nothing but perfectly compliant with the standards that had been set for the both of them.

He tried to ask about Jane Masters, who the woman was, when he thought she was ready. Valeria said nothing, only fished out an old photograph buried in her things picturing that woman and Konstantin in an obviously intimate embrace. The photograph, of two people he could barely claim to know, struck him somewhere deep. It was all too similar to moments he remembered with Valeria through the years. It could have easily been them in such a picture.

When he pried further, she only said, _“Dead is dead, Draco. It’s done. Let it go.”_ He obeyed, though not without hesitation.

She would stir at night, almost every night. Having become something of a light sleeper, her tossing and low groans would rouse him awake. He didn’t try to wake her, she needed to sleep, but each time he would pull her close under the bedding and calm her to peaceful sleep with his body pressed up against hers and a protective arm around her. It was usually his left arm; The same one that marked him. That seemed to do the trick, as they would still be wrapped in each other when he awoke, as he always woke before her, and would unfurl himself from her before she got up. He didn’t know if she knew about it. He never found cause to mention it. He worried about how she would fare now that they would be relegated back to sex-separated dormitories.

The routine they developed was the only thing keeping either of them sane, he imagined. Breakfast was had together, lunch and dinner with his parents. The afternoons were for long strolls of the Manor grounds, sometimes lasting hours, alone together, often arm-in-arm. He liked that. She’s gather plants from around the paths and tell him about their magical properties, primarily in potions. It was peaceful. In the evenings, Valeria had taken to practicing dark spells in a spare room from that book of her brother’s. He showed her some too, when he’d come check on her. It was interesting, if not impressive.

He’d sometimes lie awake over the past few weeks staring at the bed’s canopy ceiling feeling guilty about the future his actions had robbed her of while listening to her breathe within arm’s reach of him. He thought about if they were married at an older age, perhaps ten years from now. They’d live in France or the stretches of Europe for a time. He’d fly off to get eggs or milk, or some other ingredient a house elf forgot, in the nearby magical village and then he would do tricks on his broom on the way home. She would then scold him about it when she found a cracked egg and he would chuckle before apologizing. They’d pursue things, but quiet things. They’d be happy to see each other.

It was stupid. He knew that. The possibly of such nonsense was gone and he didn’t know if he’d even want that life for long if he had it. He looked at her now, as lovely looking as she always was, dutifully going over the notes still as the train began filling more. He had never felt closer to, but further apart from her. He didn’t try to parse out the logistical inconsistencies in his heart; He never saw the point in such exercises. Instead, he resolved to remember her for how he loved her, perhaps still did; He didn’t know if things like that still mattered. He wanted to remember the girl with the radiant and eyes and stormy heart, who spun in the magical wind he made for her on the muddy shore of the Black Lake.

He sat up and leaned forward, gently placing a reassuring hand on her knee. “You alright?” 

She raised a brow at him, looking away from the notes. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

He couldn’t think of a reason. It just fell out of his mouth like some kind of idi—

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Draco pulled his hand back and looked up, having not heard anyone else enter the compartment. Ernie Macmillan was nearly blushing and Hannah Abbott stood shyly behind him. The prefects had started arriving and they were followed by the other Hufflepuff appointees whose names Draco had never bothered learning. If Draco could say one thing about Hufflepuffs, it’s that they were very punctual, but that was as high praise as they could ever expect from him. Valeria promptly set her notes down and smiled politely at them.

“Not at all. Have a seat,” she said. Draco leaned back and folded his arms again as the others began to pile in one-by-one. Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein and the other Ravenclaws were next followed by Zabini and Bulstrode leading the other Slytherin appointees. An odd choice, in Draco’s opinion, but it was little to do with him. He and Zabini shared a knowing look as they took their seats. Lastly, as the train began to move, the Gryffindors arrived, led by Longbottom and Romilda Vane. Valeria stood and took a roll call, marking off each student’s name as they raised their hand, most not even daring to speak.

Draco stood as she finished with the roll call. She handed him sheets of parchment to pass on to the others as she spoke from her notes.

“Congratulations on the achievement of school prefect. I am Valeria Malfoy, your Head Girl, and with me is your Head Boy, Draco Malfoy. We have a lot to get through, so I kindly ask you to hold off your questions until the end,” she said before taking in a sigh. “As you all know, we are currently living through troubling times, and thanks to the Dark Lord’s recent victories, many changes have been implemented at Hogwarts. It is crucial that we all work together to maintain order and have a successful year for all students and faculty. Most prefect duties have remained the same, save for minor additions outlined in the parchments Draco has dispersed among you. Please review these at your earliest convenience. We will have weekly meetings each Sunday following the lunch period for reports located in the Potions classroom, thanks to Professor Slughorn’s generosity. I will now yield the floor to Draco, who will take us through your rules, guidelines and privileges.”

Valeria stood back and handed Draco his notes. Without any introductory remarks or ceremony, he began going through the items on the list of duties and the new changes for the year. Valeria felt incredibly small, feeling all eyes still on her even as Draco spoke. She could not wait for this to be over.

“…That being said, Professors Amycus and Alecto Carrow will be overseeing all disciplinary matters for this year, with only Headmaster Snape as their authority—” Draco said.

“That’s bullshit,” Longbottom interrupted.

“Be quiet,” Valeria said, low and threatening before Draco had the chance to say worse. “Continue, Draco.”

“Detentions can be given for any infraction in accordance with the new Hogwarts rules. Detention activities are decided by the Professors Carrow or the Headmaster. The Head Boy and Girl reserve the privilege of carrying out detentions, if called upon. Example detentions include, but are not limited to; Shackling, receiving of the Cruciatus Curse, wand confiscation, solitary confinement, banishment from meals, and so on,” Draco said with no feeling in his voice.

Longbottom stood. “You can’t be serious. That’s inhumane! You can’t do that!”

“I’ll remind you that prefects are subject to same punishment should they be found out of compliance or otherwise breaking laws, Longbottom. I suggest you remain silent,” Valeria said.

“Prefects and students who go above and beyond in serving the Dark Lord’s cause will be rewarded. The full extent of the new rules will be outlined by Headmaster Snape this evening. We will now take questions,” Draco finished with a bored drawl, as if he hadn’t heard Longbottom’s raving.

“Yeah, I’ve got a question: How do you two sleep at night?” Longbottom asked. Valeria could see Draco about to lose his temper on Longbottom.

“I imagine we sleep about as well as you do, Longbottom,” Valeria said before Draco had a chance. “Does anyone have an actual question?”

The rest of the prefects kept their heads down or otherwise dared not to speak. Valeria dismissed them, reminding them that they were allowed to use this carriage by nature of their positions. Not a single prefect accepted, instead all shuffling out as quickly as they could without outright sprinting. Valeria began recollecting the notes when Draco stopped her.

“I’ll take care of this. Go find your friends,” he said.

“You sure?”

“I can handle a few sheets of parchment. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Valeria said. She nodded to him in farewell and set off down the train’s corridor in search of her friends, guessing they would be near their usual compartment, as had become a sort of informal tradition. There was not nearly as much activity in the corridor as there usually was, and anyone she did find out and about avoided her, recognizing her immediately, not that she much minded that. Still, she and Draco had spent so much time together in the past few weeks that she almost felt vulnerable without him. She did not like how that made her feel.

“Valeria,” a voice whispered in a low hiss to get her attention. She wished it would be the voice of her friends, but she knew who she would find when she turned around. Luna Lovegood had somehow snuck up on her, and she could see Ginny Weasley quickly marching up to meet them.

“Hello, Lovegood,” Valeria greeted, anxious to get out of this conversation as soon as she could.

“How are you?” Lovegood asked in her usual bizarre tone, head tilted some in concern.

“I am very well, thank you,” Valeria said.

“Is _he_ around?” Ginny said.

“My husband is finishing something up, but I’m sure he’ll be heading this way shortly,” Valeria answered, almost as a warning.

“Good,” Ginny said relieved. “Then we can talk.”

“We have nothing to discuss, Weasley.”

“Of course we do,” Lovegood said. “You’ve married Malfoy.” One of the things that aggravated Valeria the most about Lovegood, in the little time she had spent with her, is the way Lovegood would say the most blunt, disarming, things in the most clueless tone.

“I’m glad you’re staying updated on the news,” Valeria responded dryly, keeping an eye down the corridor for Draco. Ginny stepped forward.

“I managed to get the potions onboard, like you said. What will we need them for?” Ginny asked.

“You should ask Longbottom,” Valeria answered, knowing that Longbottom would give a thorough rundown of the prefects’ meeting to his friends. Ginny was still unconvinced and growing more unamused

“Would you cut out the cryptic bullshit? We’re trying to help you,” Ginny said.

“Yes,” Lovegood agreed. “You haven’t been forgotten.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help, least of all yours. Please, take my advice from the last time we spoke and don’t talk to me unless it relates directly to school matters. I also suggest you two keep in your compartments for the rest ride, if you can,” Valeria said, regretting it as soon as she spoke. Both girls’ eyes widened.

“Is something going to happen?”

“Good day to you both,” Valeria said.

“If something is going to happen, you have to tell us!” Ginny protested.

“Good day,” Valeria repeated, turning on her heel and marching off down the corridor, hoping to any being above with mercy enough to hear her that they would heed her advice.

Though, unfortunately, it was not long before Draco was making his way down the corridor after Valeria was well out of sight. Lovegood and Weasley were whispering each other as he approached, but Ginny, upon seeing him, furrowed her brow and took it upon herself to stubbornly stand in his way. Draco rolled his eyes lazily.

“Stand aside, Weasley,” he said. Fearless as always, Ginny refused to stand aside and pulled out her wand.

“I’d put that away if I were you,” Draco threatened. “They’re going to be a lot less lenient with your antics this year.” He tried to take a step forward, but Ginny stepped in his way again.

“What have you done to her?” she asked. He rolled his eyes. Again.

“Sod off,” he tried to move, but was blocked once again.

“You hurt her, didn’t you? If you’ve touched her—” Ginny began. Draco did not need to hear the end of Weasley’s sentence as he took her meaning and rage flared in his chest. He stepped forward, leaning in close, at the verge of losing his temper and patience completely.

“I haven’t done anything to her, you filthy, perverted little—” he said through his teeth, sickened. They could think what they liked about him, that much he was used to, but he hated to admit that it hurt him somewhere deep down that his peers believed him capable of forcing…He couldn’t even complete the thought. Certainly, Weasley was the one sick in the head, not him. Of course, he had put himself in a bad position with his reaction. The world needed to believe they were husband and wife in every sense. Though he doubted Weasley would report anything suspicious, in the end it would be his word over a blood traitor’s anyway, he was still toeing a dangerous line. 

“Ginny, I believe him,” the Ravenclaw loon said in her weird voice, as if he wasn’t standing right there. “I don’t think he’d hurt her. Not like that.”

Weasley looked unconvinced. “If I hear otherwise—”

“I’d quit it with the heroics, if I were you,” Draco threatened, finally managing to push past the girls, rushing down the corridor until he was finally able to find his friends in a secluded compartment. Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were already there and their conversation stopped as soon as Draco stepped in and slid the door shut hard, still enraged. He took his seat with them without a word, besides casual hellos.

“Well, this year is already a shit show. Why did this have to be mandatory?” Zabini said, already bored out of his gob. Draco didn’t have an answer. He long since stopped asking questions. Nott was keeping to himself, but still listening intently. Draco liked that about him and almost envied Nott’s ability to stay out of things at this point.

“Never mind that,” Goyle said with a grin. “How’s married life, Malfoy?” Draco could hear his implication in his tone and was already too close to an outburst to tolerate it.

“It’s fine,” Draco said.

“That’s it?” Crabbe asked. “She’s like the best-looking girl in our year and that’s all you have to say about it?”

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Draco said.

“I always thought Greengrass was prettier,” Zabini offered, not that it did much to diffuse the tension.

“You’ve gotta give us more than that,” Goyle said. Draco felt nauseous.

“No, I don’t,” Draco said, patience wearing thinner and thinner. 

“I don’t know. If I had heard her all to myself, I’d never shut up about it—” Crabbe said.

“You never shut up about anything,” Nott said, growing tired of this too.

“Like you’d even know where to put it,” Zabini scoffed.

“Maybe she’s not into _him_ ,” Goyle offered, thinking himself a genius.

“Like that matters when the Dark Lord himself tells her to do it,” Crabbe replied.

“Shut the fuck up,” Draco said through his teeth, getting to his feet and seeing red.

“Relax, Mafloy. We’re just shooting the shit,” Goyle said, only him and Crabbe finding any kind of amusement in this. Draco composed himself and sat back down.

“Anything else. You can talk about anything other than her,” Draco ordered.

Valeria, quite fortunately, was met with a much different welcome when she finally found her friends. Daphne, Tracey and Pansy immediately rose to greet her, but Daphne threw her arms around Valeria with a loving embrace. Valeria nearly shed a tear, hugging her friend in return. Daphne’s hair smelled like cherry blossoms, and it brought a comfort to her somehow.

“Are you okay?” Daphne asked worriedly upon releasing her.

“I’m fine. I promise,” Valeria answered.

“You don’t look fine,” Daphne admitted.

“Just a long morning,” Valeria said, taking a seat near the window. Daphne took Valeria’s left hand in her own and looked at the rings on her finger with a sad look on her face.

“Valeria…I’m sorry…” she said.

“We would have been there,” Tracey said. “Our parents didn’t want us to.”

“I understand. It was all rather fast,” Valeria said.

“My dad knew damn well I would have gotten you the hell out of there,” Daphne said. Valeria knew that wasn’t true, nor would she want Daphne to attempt such a thing in those circumstances, but it was a kind gesture and she didn’t fight the sentiment.

“You looked beautiful. I saw the picture. And the rings, they’re gorgeous,” Pansy said, trying to be kind. Even Pansy didn’t have much to say in the way of snarky comments, for which Valeria was grateful. For once, she sensed no jealousy from Pansy, only pity, but Valeria didn’t know which was worse. She must have seen the posters plastered all over Diagon Alley. Valeria hadn’t even seen much of her own wedding photos yet, nor did she care too.

“Thank you,” Valeria said honestly.

“Has he been…okay to you? Has he tried anything?” Daphne asked with a clenched jaw and Valeria took her meaning.

“He’s been a perfect gentleman. I couldn’t ask for a better husband,” Valeria said mechanically like she was absent mindedly reading from a script. Daphne was satisfied, but not completely convinced. There was another pause in the conversation. 

“And now that you’re with Draco, you won’t be kidnapped by those awful people again. You’re practically royalty now,” Pansy said. Valeria could only smile and nod politely. Pansy clearly was not entirely in the loop as to how low the Malfoy name, and therefore Valeria’s name, had sunk, or maybe she was simply attempting niceties. Either way, Valeria had no ill will towards Pansy or the comment. “And at least this year will be better. The school is under our control and that place will finally be turned around.”

Valeria couldn’t expect Pansy to understand. She had not seen what Valeria had seen nor done what she did. She didn’t hear about Draco’s own crimes nor did she ever have to deal with Draco stirring in the night, as she too sometimes did, finding his arms wrapped around her. Valeria had no energy to set Pansy straight and let the other girl linger in her optimism. It struck her then that she and Draco were well and truly alone in this, and had been since well before they were forced to marry.

“Do you think it’ll happen to us?” Tracey asked.

“What?” Valeria said, confused.

“Will we have to do it too? The posters and the papers keep saying that we should, erm, ‘ _follow your example_ ’.” Tracey asked nervously. Valeria didn’t know what to do tell her or how to reassure her in any honesty. The truth was, she did not know, but she could only imagine that the old traditions would be heavily pushed sooner or later.

“Not until after the war, I expect,” Valeria said, as honestly as she could. That dampened the spirits of all the girls in the compartment. None of them wanted to find themselves in Valeria’s miserable position and she could hardly blame them. She would have been thinking the same thing had this happened to someone else. Thankfully, Daphne took control of the conversation, turning it to gossip about what Hogwarts would be like now, where Potter was, and what other things could happen when the war was over. For her part, Valeria was happy to sit and listen and not have to think on her every move and action for once. She listened, participated some, but mainly watched the landscape roll by.

There was a ruckus outside and the compartment door slid open. Avery stood and raised an eyebrow with a smirk at them, looking about the compartment. The other girls were shocked or scared, but Valeria remained unmoved.

“He’s not in here, Avery,” Valeria said.

“Of course, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you, ladies.” He shut the door and departed, frightening other students in other compartments at his pleasure.

“What was that?” Daphne asked.

“Just a raid. They’re looking for Potter,” Valeria said.

“They really thought he’d show up here?” Pansy asked. Valeria shrugged and made some excuse for it, but the truth was she didn’t really care nor did she ever expect Potter to turn up on the Hogwarts Express. Potter was an imbecile, but he certainly wasn’t that keen on getting himself killed with that much brazen stupidity, surely. The time dragged on, hearing various panicked shrieks and commotion coming from distant parts of the train until it all fell relatively quiet again. The sun dipped well under the horizon and Valeria’s nerves were agitated as she knew they would soon be arriving at Hogwarts. The girls all changed into their robes and before long, the train came to a stop.

“I should go find Draco,” Valeria said to her friends. Daphne tugged on her sleeve.

“If he tries anything, anything at all, you come to me immediately,” Daphne said. Valeria nodded to her.

“I’ll see you in the dormitory,” she said, parting from her friends. She retrieved her belongings and waited outside the train for Draco. He approached with his own luggage and parted ways from his friends while the other students quickly shuffled around at the Carrows’ orders.

“How’d it go with them? Do they all hate me too?” Draco said, nodding his head in the direction of the Slytherin girls.

“It went as well it could, and no, I don’t think so. Not for now. You?” she said with a sigh.

“It was fine,” he said, obviously agitated. “Let’s go.” She followed his lead and they made their way to the carriages, but Draco stopped in his tracks. “What are those?”

She looked at the carriages and back to him. “The thestrals? They’re pulling the carriages. They always have.”

“Right. I should have figured,” Draco said, sadly. She had forgotten that this was the first he had seen of them since the first death he saw was Dumbledore’s and at least two more after that. He moved ahead, obviously not wanting to linger on the subject and helped Valeria into the carriage they happened to share with Daphne and Zabini, the former was watching Draco closely. Hardly a word was shared between them as they made their way up to castle, but Daphne seemed to approve of Draco’s attentiveness in helping Valeria out of the carriage.

Draco and Valeria for once dared not to walk arm-in-arm, not wanting to attract more attention to themselves than was already upon them. Valeria could feel the stares and sense the hushed whispers as they made their way into the entrance hall, but she stopped in her tracks as she looked upon the wall just outside the Great Hall.

Great banners hung from the ceiling, each bearing the face of a witch or wizard, gently blowing in the drafty corridor. She locked eyes with the stern face of her own father looming over the students and staring down at them. His name was elegantly scrawled under his image and to the left of his banner was her own handsome brother, bearing a softer, but equally noble expression. Above them, and all the other banners, read the words _THE WALL OF FALLEN HEROES._ Valeria felt Draco’s hand press gently to her lower back.

“Just ignore it,” he whispered, urging her forward with the crowd and she silently heeded his advice, unable to bear the sight of her brother’s face after what she had done to Jane Masters. They all settled close together at the Slytherin table and she caught the grossly intrigued glances of Crabbe and Goyle, which made her stomach turn.

The first year students were ushered in by McGonagall, none of whom Valeria recognized, and the Sorting Ceremony proceeded as normal, save for the lack of an annoying song the sorting hat sang in previous years. McGonagall wore a guilty expression, watching the young, mostly terrified students shuffle off to their respective house tables. Slytherin was rowdy with applause, having a boost of confidence, more than the other houses, at each first year welcomed into the house. Once it was over, Snape rose and took his place at the podium where Dumbledore once stood.

“Good evening. I, Headmaster Snape, welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, whether you are returning or first joining this storied institution,” Snape began. He droned on about change and uncertain times, but how it was important for all to serve their purpose in the new order. Valeria tuned it out for the most part, having heard the same trite story repeatedly. He introduced the new professors and exalted the Dark Lord apathetically to the quiet dismay of many seated at the faculty table. The tone was clear; Hogwarts was a different place. Defiance would not go unpunished, and Valeria suspected that it was only going to get worse as the year dragged on.

“…You will be aided by your house prefects, identifiable by the badges on their robes, led by our Head Boy and Girl, Draco and Valeria Malfoy,” Snape remarked. There was a pathetic applause that Valeria found more embarrassing than gratifying, and Draco seemed to agree given his lack of enthusiasm. At one point, such titles would have filled them both with pride, but it seemed now an empty gesture.

The feast carried on quietly, save for the Slytherin table which was more talkative than the rest, many of the students were downright excited by what the term had in store. Valeria talked quietly amongst her friends, primarily keeping to herself. She was already exhausted. After Snape’s parting words toward the end of the drawn-out feast, she and Draco directed the prefects to do their respective duties, and all the students made their way to their dormitories in an orderly fashion.

Valeria found herself trying to relax on a sofa in the common room that seemed to be her only semblance of normalcy within the castle. The other students were reminiscing with each other or shuffling around, some perfectly at ease and others more cautious. She was lost in her thoughts when Pansy approached alongside a younger student holding a camera that she obviously wrangled into doing her bidding.

“It’s time for the picture,” Pansy said.

Valeria scoffed. “We’re actually doing that?”

“Come on. It’s the last one and my mum will kill me if we don’t,” Pansy begged. Valeria didn’t argue as Pansy called over the rest of the seventh year Slytherins to pose before the fireplace. “Draco and Valeria in front!” Pansy called out. Wanting to get it over with, Valeria and Draco obliged, sitting politely beside each other with as the younger student snapped the pictures.

Slowly, the students made their way to bed as the time passed. Unfortunately, Valeria knew she’d be unable to sleep immediately and was trying desperately to feel like a normal student in such circumstances. She stayed up, wishing each of her friends goodnight as they made their way up to bed, one by one. Before long, she was the only one left, save for Draco who plopped his lanky body on the sofa beside her.

“That went better than expected,” he said. She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Not tired?” she asked.

“Exhausted, actually. But it’s going to be weird. Without you, I mean. I’m waiting it out,” he said. She knew what he meant. She had found a sort of solace having Draco in the same bed for even a short while. It was going to feel odd to be alone again.

“This is insane…” Valeria said absentmindedly.

“It’s just like we talked about. Follow the rules, keep our heads down. We’ll be done with this place and it’ll all be over soon,” he said, trying to sound reassuring, but failing in his tone.

“And after?”

“We’ll have to see how this shakes out,” he said pessimistically. “Have you thought of what you want? After, I mean.”

“I thought we talked about that.”

“No, I mean, what do you want to do…With your life?” he asked. A bit of a heavy question at the time, she thought.

“Not a clue.”

“What did you want before this?” he asked. She took a moment to think and the answers remained the same.

“I wanted to study potions, probably, or forms of ancient, darker magic, somewhere far away from here. You?”

He scoffed a little. “I wanted to be a professional Seeker, isn’t that a laugh now.” Valeria didn’t find it funny. “I don’t know. Father had me bound for the Ministry and that seems the safest option for now.” He paused. “We’ll get you to where you want, you know that, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean that, no matter what, you’ll get to do what you want. I’ll make sure of it. Wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do, it’ll be yours. I promise,” he said. She was struck with how genuine she sounded. She so desperately wanted to believe him and she gave into that desire some. She needed that morsel of hope; That her life was not over the second he slipped that ring on her finger. “Will you be alright tonight?”

“I should be. Might be a good change,” she said, not knowing if she believed her own words.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, sounding less sure. They parted ways with a close embrace, as if they would not see each other for some time, though in truth it was only a few hours. Valeria walked quietly up the stairs to her dormitory, already missing the security Draco brought her; The only security she could really count on, and crawled into bed, missing feeling his warmth in arm’s reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to start getting darker from here on out, so I'll be putting warnings at the starts of chapters when that's the case. I kept this a little lighter, given last chapter, and this is meant to set up dynamics down the line, so sorry if it isn't as dramatic. At time of posting, I'm very tired so sorry if I have more embarrassing errors than usual! As always, thanks for sticking with me and all your lovely comments/kudos. I appreciate every single one. Hope you are all well and healthy.


	15. What Magic Is

_"You left me behind," she said bitterly._

_"No. I left myself behind," he argued.  
_

_*****_

“There must be some mistake, Professor,” Valeria said after Professor Slughorn distributed her timetable to her. “I wasn’t in some of these classes last year.”

“I’m aware. Given the ambitions you shared with the Headmaster, we decided in tandem to make some adjustments. That and the new…protocols that are in place now,” Slughorn said, shifting his weight a little. “You could request an appeal if you would like, but—”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you, sir,” Valeria said, knowing an appeal would be terribly inconvenient and likely futile. Slughorn handed Draco his own timetable and continued distributing the others to their Slytherin peers.

“What’s the damage?” Draco asked quietly, leaning over to look at Valeria’s schedule.

“Potions, Muggle Studies, Dark Arts, Magical Theory, Ancient Runes, a free period and Transfiguration,” Valeria read off with a sigh. “I was hoping to get another free period. You?”

“All the same, except I’ve got Alchemy and Charms instead of Magical Theory and Transfiguration,” Draco said.

“Why Alchemy?” Valeria asked.

“It’s interesting,” he said with a shrug. “Is it so hard to believe I’m interested in something?” He was only half-joking.

“Didn’t know, I guess,” Valeria said with a small smile. Draco had spent so many years whining about how he hated nearly every subject at Hogwarts, that she was indeed surprised to learn that he was invested in any discipline beyond just wanting to get it over with.

“I’m full of surprises, Val,” Draco said with his bored drawl, that was almost refreshing to hear. It was a small taste of what things were like before, proof that Draco was not totally lost to her. A little bit of humor, where it could be found, was proving to go a long way for them. There was passing little else to do about the circumstances but to have a laugh, even a little scoff, whenever possible.

“Muggle Studies being required is bullshit,” Valeria said, returning to her breakfast, speaking low as to avoid others’ eavesdropping. “I got out of that class as soon as I could.”

“It’s going to be different this time…” Draco said, trailing off as if he had more to say, but couldn’t find the words. Valeria remembered then how Draco had told her, without any detail, how he saw Professor Burbage die and his expression now looked pained. Valeria felt guilty for inadvertently raising the topic and giving him purpose to remember what he witnessed. She understood it implicitly.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked, switching gears in the conversation, and while Draco seemed partially relieved, he wasn’t completely out of his own head.

“Would have been better if Goyle didn’t wake me up every other hour with his snoring,” Draco groaned.

“There’s spells for that, y’know,” Valeria said.

“I’ll probably have to use them before I completely lose it,” Draco said. “You?”

Valeria had not slept well at all. She tossed and turned, finding it impossible to get to the point of comfort needed to achieve actual rest, and when she finally did pass out from sheer exhaustion, she had wild, swirling dreams that lingered in her mind when she awoke in the morning. Even in the short weeks that they shared a bed each night, she had grown quite accustomed to and fond of having him by her side, and she woke up half-thinking in her early morning delirium that he was right there again, reaching out only to feel a cold patch of mattress.

“As well as I could, I guess,” Valeria said. Draco was about to respond when Daphne rushed over and settled in a spot by Valeria.

“What are your classes?” Daphne asked. “Hi, Malfoy,” she said, clear in her tone that she was still somewhat suspicious of Draco’s intentions.

“Greengrass,” Draco greeted sternly, shifting in his seat and turning to his other friends a few seats away. Valeria compared timetables with Daphne, who already had spoken with the other girls about their own classes. Daphne and Valeria shared less classes together, given Daphne’s preference for other subjects, which was a bit disappointing. Valeria was not looking forward to taking on so many difficult subjects on top of being Head Girl in the middle of a war. She almost wondered if Snape, and/or the other teachers, were trying to keep her busy on purpose.

As she was finishing up her morning meal, and while Daphne rambled about who was in which classes, Valeria took some time to finally notice the energy in the Great Hall. Gone was the excitement and friendly chaos of the first day of classes from previous years. Most of the students were speaking low to each other, if at all and shuffling about quietly. The hall itself seemed to hold a downright dreary energy. A darkness loomed over it that she could hardly stand anymore.

“I’m gonna head down a little early,” Valeria announced, standing and gathering her things.

“You alright?” Daphne asked, Draco too looked up at her with slight concern.

“Yeah, I just want to get a good spot,” she said, excusing herself from the table. She left the Great Hall and began the long trek down to the dungeons, the students she passed looking away from her as soon as they saw her, it seemed. In previous years, she often laughed to herself at the reactions of many first years and muggleborns upon arriving at Hogwarts. Their wide eyed, excited anticipation, at everything the school was and all it could be for them, she found quite silly in many ways. She took an odd sort of pride and self-importance in the fact that the idiosyncrasies and nuances of Hogwarts as a whole hardly phased her. And why would any of it surprise her much beyond slight curiosity? This was her world, after all. The only one she had known, and she had known what to expect long before her arrival at eleven years old. That is not to say she found no excitement, only that she never found herself terribly invested in lingering on any small spectacle or source of amazement for too long.

Now that all the wonder, the glory, feeling of a proud history with a nurturing warmth had been zapped from the place, she realized what all the students she snickered at saw that which she didn’t. She was quite embarrassed to discover that she had taken so much of it for granted and only really cared about it when it was gone. 

The door to the Potions classroom was already opened when she arrived. She figured Slughorn must have snuck out of breakfast and got a head start. She walked in, taking a place near the front of the room. If her peers were going to stare at her all day and whisper to each other about business that was not their own, she would rather have them behind her so as not to see it.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Slughorn greeted, coming out of the storage room with a handful of supplies for the day's classes.

“Sorry, sir, I know I’m early,” she said.

“Not at all,” he said with a slightly unnerved laugh. “Get yourself settled in.” She thanked him and proceeded to do just that at the table with her notetaking materials and class supplies. She was enjoying a moment of peace before other students started filing in, but it was more short-lived than she anticipated.

“Valeria.”

She turned, catching the pitied expression of Terry Boot. It was striking to see him like that. She had seen him annoyed and sneering, but he mostly kept a fairly cheerful and calm disposition. He was nothing short of grave now and all the annoyance he had with her the last year and half or so seemed to have long since taken flight.

“Good morning, Boot,” Valeria said, looking away from him and back to her book materials. He took a step toward her, taking a cautious glance at Slughorn, who was indeed in his own world as he shuffled back and forth preparing for his classes.

“Valeria, I’m sorry,” he said as if he were sharing condolences for one of Valeria’s lost loved ones.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said, her patience waning.

“I didn’t handle what happened as well as I could have,” he started, obviously referring to his breaking up with her after their short, naïve, schoolyard romance, if it could even be called that, in fifth year.

“That was nearly two years ago, Terry,” Valeria interrupted.

“I know, I just…” he sighed heavily. “I meant what I said, then. I didn’t judge you. I thought really highly of you, even after...I—I never thought you were one of _them_. I really did mean ending it as temporary, just to see how things worked out…I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“That’s quite clear,” Valeria said sternly, feeling her skin crawl with humiliation all over again.

“I know, I know. I just—Even after everything that happened…you don’t deserve this. Sometimes I think that if I hadn’t done what I did, it wouldn’t have happened,” he continued.

Her stomach turned, revolted by his pity. It was the last thing she wanted or even needed, and it was an entirely novel experience to be so pathetic in the eyes of others. Even after her father and Konstantin were revealed as Death Eaters, after losing her home and being shuffled around anywhere except home, she could always take pride in herself; In something.

“Little good that does me now,” she said through her teeth. Terry inhaled sharply and sighed again, looking more and more frustrated with himself.

“You were never like them. You’re not like them,” he whispered, almost to himself.

“I was never like you either, was I?”

“You can play dumb or be as pissed as you want, but you know what I mean.”

“I do. And I also know that you’re wrong. I’m not like them now, I _am_ them,” she said. The words seemed to shock him, obviously not what he expected to hear after his poorly delivered little apology or speech, or whatever he wanted to call it. Valeria knew what he was trying to say, but not why, nor did she particularly care. He was probably like most of the others, trying to absolve himself of some sort of guilty complex he had built around his ego, which Valeria found downright insulting.

“Is he bothering you?”

She was stirred from her thoughts to find Draco at the table beside her, staring down Terry Boot.

“He was just expressing his congratulations for our wedding,” Valeria said, trying to tell Terry to leave with her eyes. Draco glanced lazily at Slughorn and to the other students starting to file tentatively into the classroom.

“Looks like it’s about time to take your seat, Boot,” Draco said with a drawl. Boot ignored him.

“If you ever need anything—” he started to say.

“I can tell you that she has more than you could ever give her. Sod off,” Draco said. Boot nodded to Valeria, looking her in the eyes, before setting off to a seat on the other side of the classroom. Draco sat down and began unpacking his materials.

“We need to work on your manners,” Valeria said.

“Seems he’s the one with the problem, not me,” Draco said. “What’d he _really_ want?”

“Rambling nonsense from some kind of idiotic guilty conscience,” Valeria said, somewhat honestly.

“Pathetic,” Draco scoffed. They kept quiet and to themselves as the other students shuffled in behind them. Thankfully, this level of potions was a pretty small class especially since the only Gryffindors that would have been able to enroll in this class were absent entirely from school. This was a relief given the resistance they would not have even attempted to hide as Slughorn began his lecture on the year’s plan.

“In accordance with changes in the, erm, curriculum, we will be narrowing our concentration to the study and crafting of poison,” Slughorn said. Valeria looked up, surprised at the turn the class was set to take, and she was almost intrigued given her interest in the area. “This area of the Potions discipline has been found to be, well, overlooked in previous years. For today, I’ll only be lecturing, but I highly recommend you listen with your full attention. Poison is the most chaotic and least understood area of Potions Studies, so we all must proceed with great care.”

The students all prepared their parchment and quills for note taking. Using his wand, Slughorn made the words _The Three Cardinal Laws of Poisons_ appear on a blackboard.

“Now,” Slughorn continued. “The fundamentals of poisons are subject to debate and there are different interpretations, depending on what theory or school of study you subscribe to, but for our purposes, we’ll be sticking with Giggleswick’s principles of poisons, as outlined in your textbooks. The fundamentals may have different names or be worded in different ways, but these core elements correspond with each other across the board. Can anyone name for me the first law of poisons?” No one responded, but Slughorn caught Valeria’s gaze and he seemed desperate for a student to take the lead in this matter. Valeria slowly raised her hand. “Yes, Mrs. Malfoy?”

“The Law of Antidote,” Valeria responded. Slughorn nodded and made her words appear on the board.

“Excellent! Can you explain that to the class?” Slughorn said.

“The law states that there’s always an antidote, even if it hasn’t been discovered yet,” Valeria said.

“Quite right. Hence, why equal knowledge of poisons and their antidotes is critical. For this reason, too, inventing and crafting poisons must always be flexible and ready to adapt. A poison is only as strong as its antidote is weak. Would you like to continue with the second law, Mrs. Malfoy?”

“The Law of Deception,” Valeria said as if reciting.

“Yes. A poison is inherently deceptive, most of them consumed voluntarily, though unknowingly. Therefore, there is usually a bond, a trust, between poisoner and…consumer; A bond that the poisoner must choose to sacrifice. Even many ingredients in poisons involve a form of corruption, sacrifice or otherwise inherently violent in their acquirement. For example, in the case of unicorn or dove’s blood,” Slughorn explained. “And the final law?”

“The Law of Dose,” Valeria said.

“Indeed. As the saying goes, ‘poison is in the dosage.’ Crafting a poison is only half the battle. One must understand, on a case by case basis, how to administer a dosage for the desired, erm…impact. Quite a difficult feat given the often-implied uncertainty of a consumer’s anatomical makeup or tolerances. Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy; Ten points to Slytherin,” Slughorn said.

Professor Slughorn rattled on and Valeria scribbled down notes, much of the information she already knew from previous study. She remembered the little vial of poison locked away securely in her things upstairs. The only other soul who knew about it was Daphne, but Valeria sincerely doubted Daphne had a clue as to what it was or cared much to find out while she held onto it over the summer. Valeria had saved it as an insurance policy; A way out should things get worse and she could not get it out of her head, knowing well now that things could always get worse.

“Seems you’ve managed to stay in Slughorn’s good graces,” Draco said as they made their way back up through the castle to seventh year Muggle Studies after Potions was concluded for the day. Valeria scoffed, it had surprised her too, given the thievery and deceit she had committed against the Potion’s Master all last year.

“He just knows that I have experience with poison,” Valeria said.

“Maybe he’s trying to stay in your good graces,” Draco posed. Every once in a while, when she figured she knew Draco inside and out, he would surprise her with how perceptive he could be. The thought seemed preposterous at first, but given her current proximity to the inner circle of Death Eaters, it would not be out of the realm of possibility for Slughorn to try to appeal to her position.

“It’s not like you or I have any sort of real influence on anything,” Valeria said quite honestly, and quietly.

“Maybe,” Draco shrugged. “But he might not know that.”

They took two empty seats near the front of the Muggle Studies classroom, the class Valeria had been dreading the most due to how ridiculous it was to require it. She and Draco both seemed to implicitly understand the need to maintain a good impression with Alecto Carrow, despite how much Valeria disliked the woman. It was vital to appear as good students in this class, knowing full well that any screw up could be spread amongst the Death Eaters and land her and/or Draco in trouble, even outside of school. All the seventh years it seemed were present, at the least the ones still at the school.

“Good morning Mr. and _Mrs._ Malfoy,” Alecto said with a satisfied sneer, very much enjoying emphasizing Valeria’s married name, likely following Bellatrix’s example.

“Good morning,” both Valeria and Draco said flatly. Valeria looked up at the board to see already written: _Why are muggles dangerous?_ She at once understood exactly what kind of class this was going to be. Alecto began as soon as soon as she finished taking attendance.

“I know, being seventh years, that many of you must be surprised that Hogwarts is requiring Muggle Studies for all students. However, you must know that we firmly believe that you should all understand what it is we fight for and what we are fighting against in this war. The question on the board is a trick,” Alecto said as if she were the cleverest person on earth. “There is another question that must be answered first. What is magic?”

The room was silent. No one wanted to discuss magical philosophy today, least of all Valeria. Alecto looked around the room, frowning as she seemed to have expected eager hands to fly up all around the room. She paced around and stopped at the back of the room.

“You,” she said, looking at Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff. “What is magic?”

Startled, Ernie stuttered for an answer. “A...tool?”

“No,” Alecto said, moving on quickly and pointing to Anthony Goldstein. “What about you? What is magic?”

“Isn’t it, at its core, knowledge about the world around us, how it works and how we work within it?” Goldstein said after thinking on it for a moment.

“You’re overthinking it. Longbottom, what is magic?”

“Power,” Longbottom said, sounding uncharacteristically confident.

“No,” Alecto said, returning to the front of the room, turning her gaze on Draco and Valeria.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Alecto said to Valeria’s dismay, hating all the attention brought to her today already.

“A gift?”

“Five points to Slytherin,” Alecto called out, enjoying that power more than she probably should. “Did you get that from your father?”

“Yes,” Valeria said, remembering her late father’s little lessons throughout the years.

“Indeed, he was always right about that at least,” Alecto said, moving to address the rest of the classroom once again. “Magic is a gift, a treasured gift. A gift that would be envied, even feared, if known outside of our world. It must be earned. Therefore, we must fight for it, protect it and win it. This is what separates us at our core from muggles,” saying that last word as though it were filthy.

The rest of the lecture was spent by Alecto spouting off the Dark Lord’s anti-muggle propaganda with passion and gusto. Draco’s eyes glazed over as he descended into pained boredom. This was certainly nothing new to him and to an extent, it wasn’t new to Valeria either. They departed the class with an assignment for each student to write a five-page report on the history of magic within their own families and bloodlines as evidence for the sanctity of magical tradition. The last thing Valeria wanted to do was talk about her family.

Several of their peers from other houses appeared downright distraught or enraged by the material as the seventh years made their way to the final class before lunch, Dark Arts. Again, Valeria and Draco sat together as Amycus Carrow went through what they could expect for the year. He was certainly eager and Valeria could feel Draco tense up beside her as Amycus proudly stated the liberal use of the Cruciatus Curse that would be employed in the class. They were given the assignment to write a personal statement, supposedly the only written work they would have to do, about why they want to learn the Dark Arts and how they want to use them, due later that week. Crabbe and Goyle were positively enamored with Carrow and the material, which left a poor taste in Valeria’s mouth.

Several of the other seventh years outside of Slytherin increasingly huddled around each other as the day progressed, whispering amongst each other. Valeria could see it dawning on each of them just how differently the school was going to be run and the uncertainty of the future seemed to infuriate them. The day otherwise carried on without much incident, from Valeria’s perspective, as everyone amongst the student body seemed to be catching their bearings. By the time her penultimate class, Magical Theory, rolled around, she was fed up with being around almost anyone.

Fortunately, there was almost no one in the class. Taking a spot at the front. Cranky old Professor Hodgson did not seem to notice or care, as he silently waited for the correct number of students to fill the room.

“Hi, Valeria.”

Startled out of her thoughts, Valeria was positively dismayed to see Luna Lovegood’s serene looking face greeting her as the girl took the seat beside her.

“Hello, Lovegood,” Valeria said, trying to hide her annoyance. “I thought this was a seventh-year class.”

“It is, but since there’s so few taking it and it’s the only time it’s offered, they said I could enroll too,” Luna said.

“Wonderful.”

“My mother used to craft spells. I wanted to learn what she did,” Luna said.

“That’s very interesting,” Valeria said dryly, though Luna failed to take the hint and rambled on about her mother. Only out of sheer politeness did Valeria even partially listen.

“What’s that?” Luna asked nodding to the serpentine armband around Valeria’s slightly exposed wrist that she still dutifully wore each and every day.

“It’s a bracelet,” she replied.

“It’s beautiful. Is that the one I saw Lupin give you at the wedding?” Luna asked.

“Yes, but it wasn’t from him,” Valeria said.

“Ah, so it was from Malfoy. That makes more sense,” Luna said.

“How do you kn—”

“That’s a ward, isn’t it?” Luna asked. Valeria nodded. “My father told me about them. They’re really rare as hardly anyone knows how to make them anymore and no one really understands how they work. If it was made right, it’ll only work for you and no one else given how they’re made.”

“Dark magic,” Valeria uttered absent mindedly, looking at the gleaming band. She remembered how it trembled before the Death Eaters raided the Weasley wedding, warning her. How it trembled when she met the Dark Lord for the first time, though she had been too petrified to really take notice.

“Not really, it’s blood magic,” Luna said in her weird, breathy voice. “It can go either way, but blood is so powerful because it’s the life force.”

“Yes, I know,” Valeria interrupted.

“Something like that can only work if it’s given completely selflessly,” Luna babbled, ignoring Valeria’s cues. “It must be pure, freely given, and given only in absolute love, or so my father’s theory goes.” Those words struck Valeria somewhere deep, giving new energy to something within her that she had for a long time been ignoring; an ache in her chest forced her to view the simple trinket with new, stunned, eyes. “That’s why I told Ginny that I don’t think Malfoy could hurt you when we saw him on the train.”

“You talked to him?!” Valeria whispered harshly.

Luna nodded and whispered in return. “Ginny was upset, but I remembered that, figured he had given it to you, what with the snake and all, and if he could manage to do that for you, then he was completely incapable of doing you harm. See, his blood flows through it. That’s what gives it its power. And, according to most theories, it would still live on and ward against danger, even if Malfoy were to die—”

That sent Valeria over the edge. She yanked her arm away, snapping out of the trance Luna’s information had put her in and instantly devolved to some sort of primal state, panic-stricken, desperate; A beast backed into a corner.

“Don’t you _ever_ say that. Don’t even dare,” Valeria whispered viciously. She could feel herself nearly breaking into tears. The thought of losing Draco in any way was far too much for her to bear. The quiet conversation, caught Professor Hodgson’s attention, though no one in the room appeared to have heard and he spoke before Lovegood could apologize.

“Everything alright, Mrs. Malfoy?” he asked.

“Fine. Everything’s fine,” Valeria lied. Noticing that all the enrolled students were present, he rose and went over the plans and expectations for the year. When it was finally over, Valeria haphazardly gathered her things and marched off to Transfiguration. She sat with Daphne and listened as a clearly shaken and deeply saddened McGonagall, gave her own lecture on the course materials. Valeria was starving by the end of it, eager to go to dinner.

“Miss Winters,” McGonagall called after her. “Could I speak to you a moment?”

Valeria said farewell to Daphne and approached McGonagall at the front of the class as the last of the students exited the room.

“With all due respect, professor,” Valeria began. “It’s Mrs. Malfoy.” McGonagall’s sad look only worsened to hear it and it equally hurt Valeria to say it. It had felt nice to hear her maiden name again.

“Right, of course. My apologies,” McGonagall said. She paused to breathe a moment. “I wanted to ask…Is everything…? Are you alright?”

Valeria swallowed, overstressed and overwhelmed. Humiliated once again. “I’m very well, Professor.”

McGonagall was unmoved. “I just wanted to apologize. We, the faculty, the former Ministry…we failed you. If we would have known this would happen to you…If we would have intervened sooner…”

Perhaps McGonagall was trying to make a confession or perhaps asking for forgiveness. Valeria didn’t care. She was furious at McGonagall’s lack of care and the incompetence of nearly every adult around her for so long. To attempt an apology for all of it now felt like a slap to the face.

“Well, you didn’t, did you?”

“Miss Winters, you have to understand–” McGonagall implored.

“Mrs. Malfoy! My name is Valeria _Malfoy_!” Valeria erupted. “And I suggest you remember it. I don’t want to have to bring it to the Headmaster.” McGonagall was taken aback, a state Valeria had never seen the teacher in, certainly not like this. Valeria felt guilty to see the look on her teacher’s face, but resolved to stand her ground, as painful as it was. “Have a good evening, Professor.”

Valeria stormed out of the room, leaving a dumbstruck McGonagall behind and dropped her things off in her dormitory before going back to dinner in the Great Hall. She needed the walk to clear her head and maintain the façade that nothing was amiss. She sat beside Draco and listened to him ramble about his classes in a flat tone, before regaling him on the classes she had without him.

“It’s awful!” Valeria ranted, cutting her chicken more violently than she likely needed to. “Hodgson paired me and Lovegood up for the rest of the year. We’re doing spell craft, so we’re meant to work together on inventing a spell by the December recess. Me and the mad girl! She’s probably going to want to turn the sky permanently purple or turn farts to rainbows flying out the arse. It’s an outrage.”

She stopped, noting Draco’s lack of response. His head was bent and he covered his face, trembling. Concerned, she dropped her utensils and was about to reach out for him when he looked up with watery and eyes and tipped his head back. He was laughing. Really laughing. Recovering from the surprise, she rolled her eyes and went back to her plate.

“I’m picturing it,” he said, still laughing. “You and Looney…It’s a match made in Hell.”

“You wouldn’t think it’s so funny if it were you,” Valeria said.

“Well, it’s not me, so it’s funny,” Draco said, summing up his philosophy for most of his life in one short sentence, still laughing. He laughed harder every time she told him to shut it, wiping the tears thusly created on his sleeve.

“I can’t wait to go to bed. I just want this day to be over,” she said.

“Not so fast. We’ve got our first patrol tonight,” he said.

“Dammit,” Valeria cursed in frustration. That too seemed to amuse Draco a little.

Patrol was eerily quiet and absurdly dull, which was probably for the best. Draco had told her that when he was actively a prefect, the patrols that bookended school recesses were always the busiest. Now though, they were just depressing. Hardly anything stirred and while it made her job easier, she couldn’t help but feel dismay, knowing it was only fear that made the student body obey.

“I don’t want to go back yet,” Draco said, stopping as they entered the last corridor to the Slytherin common room down in the dungeon. They were nearing the end of the patrol.

“There isn’t much else to do, is there?” Valeria said. Draco looked around before approaching and grabbing her wrist.

“Come on,” he said, gently yanking her down a different dungeon corridor.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly.

“Just trust me,” he said as he opened the door of an old abandoned classroom and carefully locked the door behind them so as not to make any noise. They illuminated the tips of their wands and Valeria watched as Draco walked to the ancient wooden desk at the front of the room. He sat on top of it and as she approached he pulled a small flask from an inner pocket in his robes.

“What the hell are you doing? How did you even get that in the school?” she asked.

“I still have some privileges, despite how far the Malfoy name has fallen,” he drawled. “Being Head Boy helps.” He uncapped it and handed it to her after taking a swig.

“It’ll help you relax a little. It’s been a long day. You deserve a break,” he said. Hesitant though she was, she took it and drank.

“Is this the wedding mead?” she asked. He laughed aloud again and nodded.

“There was plenty left over. None of our _honored guests_ were too interested in getting sloshed and saying something stupid. That’s my guess anyway. More for us,” he said, shrugging at the end. She joined him sitting on top of the table.

“Surprised you don’t want to hang out with your friends,” she said as they passed the flask back and forth.

“Crabbe and Goyle won’t stop talking, you saw it in Dark Arts. Guess I don’t have much to say to them anymore.”

“I was wondering when you’d be through with those idiots.”

He chuckled. “They _are_ idiots, but they’re still on our side. They still can come in handy if you’re in a tight spot.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I never understood it. The arrogant, clumsy, filthy mouthed—”

“Takes one to know one,” he teased. She playfully shoved him.

“I was raised to be a proper young lady, I’ll have you know,” she said.

“Oh, were you now? I seem to remember a sunny afternoon when I tried to teach you how to fly on a broom—”

“You promised not to talk about that ever again.”

“And correct me if I’m wrong, _lady_ , but I seem to remember you spewing every curse in the book, while flailing around on the broom—”

“I’m warning you…”

“Until you fell from a whole foot and a half off the ground right onto your arse,” he said, quite amused with himself. “And, you were so mad, so embarrassed that you weren’t perfect at something that you swore me to secrecy. I’ve never seen anyone so uncoordinated in my life.”

“You’re an asshole…”

“I wish I could remember what your face looked like. I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t see,” he said, cracking himself up again. She playfully smacked him on the arm, trying to hide her own laughter. “I wish it was still that easy…” he mused sadly. She placed a reassuring hand on his knee.

“We’ll figure something out. We have before,” she said quietly, not knowing if she was convinced of her own words.

“We barely made it out of last year alive. We fucked it up at every turn. I can’t do that again. I know I can’t,” he said.

“We don’t have a choice, do we?” she said. He paused for a moment.

“Do you think, when this is over and he wins…Do you think we can be alright together? Eventually?” he asked. Valeria didn’t know what had gotten into him. The drinks were loosening his tongue, for certain, but even then, it was odd for him to be so candid. She didn’t know what he was asking from her. She really didn’t know what to say. “I know you’re not happy now. I’m sure as hell not either, but maybe eventually it could be livable. If it has to be that way, I mean.”

“I think it’s possible,” she said, confused about how she felt, unsure of how much she meant it. He placed his hand delicately over hers and she looked at him, starting to feel the impact of the alcohol a little, the warmth in her gut that felt like a relief. He wasn’t as sickly as last year’s end, but he certainly wasn’t his former self. There was a brokenness in his eyes that seemed irreparable, that was reflected back on her and broke her apart. He looked at her like he was desperately in need, searching for something, anything to soothe his aching spirit.

She didn’t know what came over her, but she couldn’t bear seeing him like that. The urge she had all last year to save him from what pained him, to do whatever she had to do keep him alive, swelled up in her shaken spirits and she leaned into him, pressing her lips to his. He reciprocated, aggressively, but not frighteningly and before she knew it, she found herself under him in the nearly pitch-black room on top of a dusty old table.

But he soon pulled away and carefully got off of her. “I’m sorry…I don’t know…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Draco, it’s fi—” she began. He hopped off the table and held his hand out for her.

“We should get back before anyone misses us,” he said. She accepted his aid in getting back to her feet on the floor, knowing deep down he was right. That all too familiar feeling, that of never wanting to leave somewhere with someone, washed over her and her heart felt heavy with soreness as they silently made their way back to their respective beds, alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have lingered too long on some details, but there's a lot to pack in at this point so I hope you enjoyed all the same. Stay safe and stay well.


	16. All Glory for the Dark Lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some (magical) violence ahead.

_"You undermined me," he said._

_"I did it for you, don't you get that?" she replied._

_*****_

“Dumbledore left that sword to Harry in his will. He wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t important to Harry’s mission,” Ginny argued to several of her peers in the Gryffindor common room. They had all gathered, unofficially and almost coincidentally, to share information and maybe, if they were lucky, figure out what they could do.

“But what exactly is Harry doing and how would the Sword of Gryffindor help?” Lavender asked.

“I don’t know,” Ginny admitted. “But if Dumbledore thought it would help Harry, then we have to try.”

“That’s all well and good,” Seamus said. “But how do you expect us to get it when it’s locked up in Snape’s office?”

“You mean Dumbledore’s office,” Parvarti said.

“Dumbledore’s dead,” Seamus said. “That’s not the point. The point is we can’t expect any lenience from Snape. We don’t even know the password or if it’s being magically protected.”

“We can watch his movements, see when he’s in and when he’s out. We can try to listen in and see if we can get the password,” Neville said enthusiastically.

“And then what? Expect him not to find out or not notice that it’s gone?” Lavender asked. “They’ll pin this on us right away even if we manage to steal it in the first place.”

“We could always ask the other DA members…” Ginny offered. “Luna will help. I know she will.”

“I feel weird about asking that of them,” Lavender said.

“They don’t want this either! The only other students who like this are the Slytherins, and half of them look miserable too,” Neville said. “They won’t be obligated to help, of course, but we have to try. Look at this place. Look at everyone who’s not here. We can’t just give up and accept this.”

“Are you actually suggesting we reform the DA?” Seamus asked.

“Yeah…Yeah, I guess I am,” Neville said.

“I’m in,” Ginny said without missing a beat.

“This isn’t Umbridge, you guys,” Lavender sighed. “This is…so much worse.”

“Which is why we have to try,” Ginny insisted.

“I’m in too,” Parvarti said. “I’ll talk to my sister too.”

“Me too,” Seamus said after consideration. “We haven’t got much to lose.”

“Lavender?” Ginny asked.

“I’ll do what I can,” Lavender said.

“That’s all we ask,” Neville said with a nod. “You can start by pulling members from other houses, going with those who’re most likely to agree first.”

“I hate to spoil this reunion, but this doesn’t help us get the Sword of Gryffindor,” Seamus said.

Ginny thought for a moment and curled her lip inward. “There’s someone who can help…” Neville looked at her quizzically before realizing her meaning.

“No, Ginny, we can’t trust her,” Neville said.

“Who?” Seamus asked.

“Winters,” Ginny said. The rest of the group was just as surprised as Neville was at Ginny’s suggestion.

“You mean _Mrs. Malfoy?!_ ” Seamus said with a mocking tone. “I think it’s safe to say she’s not on our side anymore.”

“If she ever was,” Parvati said.

“You think she wants to be his wife?!” Ginny said with disgust.

“They were pretty cozy all last year,” Neville said. “Even now, they’ve barely left each other’s side from what I can see.”

Ginny stood. “She told us all, the entire Order of the Phoenix, I mean, that she wanted to join us. She helped us. She used some spell to get Harry, Hermione and Ron away from the Death Eaters. Even when I ran into her, when Malfoy was close by she kept telling me stuff about what to do. She warned me about what it was going to be like here. She warned me about the raid on the train.”

“And how do you think this is going to go? ‘Hi, Mrs. Malfoy, would you please help us steal the sword from Snape’s office even though you’re married to a bloody Death Eater?’ That’s insane!” Seamus said.

“Maybe, but she’s our best bet. Luna’s her partner in Magical Theory, maybe she can talk to Winters,” Ginny said.

“But why? Why would she risk herself like that?” Neville asked. “And what if she says no and warns Snape?”

“Because she doesn’t want this either, I know it. She said it. She has no hope for getting out of her marriage unless there’s some kind of resistance force,” Ginny tried to explain. The others looked unconvinced. “If she says no, or seems suspicious, we can wipe her memory or something. It won’t matter then because she won’t be able to pin anything on us. She’s the only chance we got. Snape trusts her and she’s Head Girl. She might even know the password to his office.”

“We’ll talk to the other DA members, then we’ll keep an eye on Snape,” Neville concluded. “If all else fails, we’ll talk to her, but only then.”

Draco looked at himself in the mirror the morning after his rendezvous in the dungeon with Valeria feeling like an absolute idiot who also had a dull headache. If things weren’t so wrong, he might have let himself laugh about it. After all, he must have been the first person in a long time to feel so conflicted about kissing his own wife. In truth, it wasn’t kissing her that nagged at his conscience, he had done that dozens of times, it was how it felt like the right thing to do in the face of how wrong he thought it to be.

The sham of this marriage made it difficult to reconcile his feelings for her. At the same time, despite his selfish desires, at his core he did not want her to love him because she had to or because he was her only option, in any sense of the word. It made him feel ill with guilt that it was his fault. It did not square with any morality he could find within himself, as murky as such a search was, to give any validity to what they had been forced to do by entertaining the notion of truly loving her.

And yet, he hated to ask, had he not, in some twisted way already? If so, for how long? Was it only out of proximity or familiarity? Was it just a schoolboy’s fleeting feelings inflated by desperate circumstances? He didn’t know. Whatever the case, he felt he deserved nothing from her and overall, it felt cruel.

But like cruelty, feelings of unequivocal devotion, dare he say love, did not play favorites. It didn’t know the difference between his sins or innocence, nor between what he deserved or didn’t. It only ate at him, chipping away at any resistance of his heart, bit by bloody bit, and gave the jagged pieces leftover to her. Then it told her, _“do with this what you will.”_ And so, she helplessly bled for him as she held the pieces in her pale little hands. 

And that was what he feared and would not dare to dream of risking. He would not allow her in too deep for the sake of her own survival. To live through this feverish nightmare was the only goal in sight, and he would care, or return her affections, only so much as it served that cause. Nothing more. That is, if he could control it, which was another daunting matter entirely.

Valeria arrived at breakfast later than Draco, which disappointed her as she hoped to have a word with him about the night before in private. She found him at the Slytherin table looking at the paper with a furrowed brow. For herself, she had been trying to avoid reading the news. It was either too heart wrenching or too enraging otherwise.

“What’s happened?” she asked, sitting beside Draco. Without a word, he let the paper fall onto to the table with the front page up.

 _Undesirable Number One and Accomplices Ambush Ministry of Magic_

“Potter,” Valeria whispered to herself, grabbing the paper and reading _The Prophet’s_ account of the event. It was ludicrous, and Valeria might not have believed it to be real. “Why would he go there? Is he mad?”

“Can’t resist playing hero, even when he’s public enemy number one,” Draco said with disdain. “He’s not going to be happy about this. Yaxley’s been at the Ministry and…” Valeria could see from his face that he was remembering something, and she was correct in guessing it was the torture he himself had to inflict upon his fellow Death Eaters when they failed before. She gently grabbed his wrist.

“You’re not there. You don’t have to worry about that right now,” she said, knowing the platitudes were little reassurance.

“For now,” he said with a defeated sigh.

“Hello, you two,” Pansy said behind them. Looking back, she was holding out two photographs, one for each of them. Draco and Valeria each took one and thanked Pansy. “Seems like yesterday we were sitting for the first one. Time’s funny like that.”

Pansy eventually got the hint that the Malfoys were in no mood for a reminiscent conversation and politely excused herself. Valeria looked at the photograph with all the seventh years neatly posed and could not help but linger on her own face. She believed she had never seen herself look deader in the eyes and it disturbed her.

“We should send these to our mothers,” Draco said.

“I don’t even know where mine’s living,” she said. Draco gently took Valeria’s copy of the picture from her. “I’ll send both to my mother. She’ll know how to get it to yours.”

The week passed without much incident as Valeria tried to settle into the new normal. She had yet to give out a detention while making her rounds and even Draco seemed uninterested in using his privileges for that purpose, letting most go with a rude and stern warning. She knew it was only a matter of time, before she had to, but she would hold off as long as she could. She often found students being escorted back to their respective houses after suffering at the hands of the Carrows in detention. Some wouldn’t look at her, still in tears. Others were fearful and shuffled away and some still looked her in the eye with such a gripping disdain that it almost frightened her.

Draco joked sarcastically on the tenth of September about how they had officially been married for an entire month. Valeria had already forgotten the date of the marriage. To her it felt like a decade had passed. That was the only humor to be found then, as Hogwarts descended further into utter bleakness, the Death Eaters employed by the school, and the Dark Lord’s other adherents, were gaining a great deal of confidence in the power they held and were increasingly enjoying liberal use of it.

In Dark Arts, they had been covering what Amycus Carrow called “creative methods of obtaining information,” which boiled down to the study of torture curses other, and less severe, than the Cruciatus Curse. Amycus was gleeful the day he called on Valeria to offer an example of such a spell, and she made him aware of the Strangulation Curse, or _Obfocia,_ which she had last year discovered in Konstantin’s old book on dark magic, but had yet to use. In fact, she had taken to studying the book further in earnest, like she had back at Malfoy Manor in an effort to have more tools in her arsenal, feeling as though she might need them eventually.

One particular class session began with Professor Carrow marching in a fourth year Ravenclaw whose name Valeria did not know to the front of the class and magically rooting the student to the spot so he could not escape.

“We’ve covered enough spells for this unit on paper,” Carrow began. “It’s high time we begin practicals. My sister has informed me that Mr. Bentham here has decided to use his Muggle Studies essay on the dangers of breeding with muggles to argue that there is no proof of magical degeneration or corruption in mudbloods or their ilk.” A few students, namely in Slytherin with Crabbe and Goyle being the loudest, booed. “He even cited banned literature in order to supposedly make his point. Given these infractions, I think we can achieve a positive outcome by having him serve his punishment with us and provide you all a learning opportunity, in more ways than one. Now, who among you has real-world experience in casting such curses. Don’t be shy now.”

Crabbe and Goyle immediately and eagerly threw their hands in the air while Draco calmly rose his at the same time, followed by Valeria who slowly raised hers up, avoiding the student’s frightened eyes. She didn’t turn to see who else raised their hands, but she was confident that she was amongst the few of her year.

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy, how could I forget I’ve seen you in action a few times,” Carrow said. “You’re up first.” Valeria could feel Draco tense beside her as he rose in silence and to stand in the center aisle. She was seated close to him in the center seat and watched as his jaw clenched and his muscles trembled slightly. Goyle groaned over not being chosen.

“Now, Mr. Goyle, not to worry, everyone will have a turn. Malfoy, do you remember the first spell we covered? The Dry Drowning Curse?” Amycus said, coming to stand beside Draco.

“Yes,” Draco mumbled with a nod.

“Then you’ll remember that it’s the mildest of the ones we covered, as no harm is actually befalling the culprit, but it certainly _feels_ like it is. We’ll ease in with that. Wand at the ready,” Carrow said. Draco slowly extended his arm, his wand pointed squarely at the Ravenclaw, nearly in tears. The ward on her wrist began to tremble inside her sleeve.

“ _Assicco Imergo,”_ Draco said through his clenched jaw. A bolt of white-hot looking light shot from Draco’s wand and struck the Ravenclaw in the chest. Immediately, the student fell to the floor onto his back with his knees up, the soles of his shoes still magically glued to the floor. Valeria watched, gripping the fingers of her right hand with her left, as the student began gasping for air, chest heaving and writhing side to side on the floor to the point of convulsing.

He appeared to be choking on his own breath, lungs seeming to fail him, struggling in agony for even the smallest inhale. Spit and thick mucus sputtered from his mouth and Valeria only tore her gaze away to look up at Draco, whose own eyes seemed to twitch, trying not to wince at what he was doing by his own power.

“Excellent, Malfoy! Keep going,” Carrow shouted.

Draco obeyed. The student flopped around like a like a fish out of water, clawing at his chest, and Carrow laughed, followed by several students. Crabbe and Goyle were outright beside themselves with laughter, cackling along to the torment.

“And release,” Carrow commanded. Draco immediately did so and the student could breathe properly again, gasping and coughing for air. “The real trick with this curse is to know when to stop. You must always hold the threat of it happening again over their heads or else what’s the point? Tell us, Mr. Bentham, do you regret what you’ve done?”

“No,” the student yelled out with a dry throat through a cough.

“Again, Mr. Malfoy,” Carrow ordered.

“Sir?” Draco asked, startled by the request.

“Again!”

Draco cast the curse again and the horrible ordeal started over. Repeatedly, at least twice more, Carrow ordered Draco to release and recast as Bentham refused to admit any wrongdoing. Valeria shoved down her fear, her sympathies, her urge to stop this and felt paralyzed to her chair in effort to maintain control over her feelings. After far too long and much back and forth, Bentham finally gave up his stubborn righteousness and admitted to regretting the essay. Lonbottom immediately volunteered to take the shaken student back to Ravenclaw Tower, which Carrow permitted, far too preoccupied with praising Draco’s efforts and ranting about the merits of the curse.

Draco hardly said a word as the day passed and his eyes were glazed over in some sort of deadness that Valeria had difficulty pinning down. She asked him about it on patrol, but he pulled away from her touch, as if startled, and refused to speak of it. She respected it, for the time being, knowing herself how it still felt to think of what she had done to Jane Masters. Punishments only ramped up from there, and she sometimes swore she could hear cries for help in the abandoned parts of the dungeons, remembering how solitary confinement was on the list of approved disciplinary actions.

The arrival of October welcomed with it the autumn chill and gloom. Weekly prefect meetings were becoming a disaster. Zabini had been lazy in his duties, though Millicent was more than happy to hand out detentions as if they were infinite. Draco scolded Zabini on secretly passing off duties to Crabbe and Goyle, but Zabini didn’t seem to care, preferring to keep out of things if the two stupid twins were willing to do his dirty work for him. The other prefects were a mixture of outraged and fearfully passive. Ample time was spent telling Longbottom to shut it. Desperate to get away from the stress of everything, Draco and Valeria had taken to more late nights in abandoned classrooms, sharing some mead and trying to find something, anything to cling to. They often spent the hours together reminiscing over childhood memories and exploits, and Valeria was quick to notice, though she kept it to herself, how these were the only times either of them smiled at all.

In fact, it became one of the only things she looked forward to as the days crawled like weeks, and weeks were starting to feel like months. She stood at the end of Magical Theory one Friday afternoon in early October, in eager wait of another patrol later that evening when Luna suddenly grabbed her hand as if to shake it. Valeria could feel a crumpled piece of parchment between their hands. Valeria avoided the urge to roll her eyes at how unsubtle it was, but Luna walked off after giving her a knowing nod.

Valeria shoved the parchment quickly in her pocket and read it in the privacy of her dorm before dinner that evening.

_Meet me in the Room of Requirement tonight._

_-G.W._

Though she didn’t recognize the handwriting, but the initials made it clear who sent it. She was suddenly struck with paranoia and it preoccupied her throughout dinner as she avoided even glancing at the Gryffindor table. On the following patrol, Draco and Valeria separated to cover different parts of the castle, agreeing to meet later as usual. She wasn’t going to tell him about the letter, not until she knew what was going on. She made the decision unsure if it was the right thing to do, but Draco would have reported it immediately, no matter how much he didn’t actually want to. If it came to saving himself over Ginny Weasley, his choice was clear.

Valeria tentatively got to the seventh-floor spot, but no door appeared. She tried several things, remembering what Draco had told her last year about how to access it, but nothing happened.

 _I need to talk to Ginny Weasley,_ Valeria thought, and with that, a small inconspicuous door appeared before her and she quickly went in, wand at the ready. Inside was a small, largely blank room with three chairs and turning to face her were Ginny, of course, and to Valeria’s surprise, Neville Longbottom.

“You actually came,” Longbottom said, sounding shocked, but seeing the wand in Valeria’s hand, removed his own from his pocket. Ginny at least looked relieved.

“Do you understand how dangerous this is?” Valeria asked, annoyed and anxious.

“Yeah,” Ginny said as though it were a stupid question. “That’s why I had Luna pass you that note instead of announcing it in front of everyone in the Great Hall.”

“Enough bullshit,” Valeria insisted. “What do you want?”

Neville inhaled. “We need your help.”

“No,” Valeria replied without missing a beat.

“Just listen!” Ginny insisted. “We need to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from Snape’s office.”

Valeria was struck by Weasley’s bluntness. “What?!”

“It’s important! Dumbledore left it to Harry in his will, but Scrimgeour wouldn’t give it to him. You remember the day he came to our house, right?” Ginny asked.

“Why? Why does Potter need the sword?” Valeria asked in confusion when the thought dawned on her. “Do you know where he is?”

Neville tensed at the question. “No.”

“Then how do you expect to get it to him?” Valeria asked, growing more aggravated.

“That’s for later,” Longbottom said. “For now, we need to focus on the sword.”

“We’ve been watching Snape,” Ginny began. “We’ve got his basic schedule down, but we still need to find a way to get into his office. You know the password, don’t you?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Valeria said, remembering having received the password in the materials Snape sent her and Draco with their Head Boy and Girl guidelines.

“Don’t you understand? This is your chance to do something about all of this,” Ginny said.

“And for what? To get myself, to get Draco killed?” Valeria said, exacerbated with how insane their plan was.

“We’ll take the fall if it goes wrong. We won’t reveal that you’ve helped us,” Longbottom said.

“Or that you’ve been helping us,” Ginny said.

“Oh, that is very comforting,” Valeria said sarcastically. “Except for the fact that I’ve seen, in person, people killed for less.” Her voice shook remembering Jane Masters. “You’ll have no help from me. I’m sorry.”

Ginny was enraged. “But you said…You said you wanted to join us!”

“I said nothing of a sort!” Valeria shouted back.

“But you did! The night before Bill’s wedding, you said you wanted to join us and help us!” Ginny yelled in return.

Valeria had no idea what Ginny was talking about, but the words frightened her. She raised her wand, prompting the other two to do the same. Draco’s ward trembled on her wrist. “I’d never do that.”

“You did! You read us your brother’s letter about how he didn’t want to be a Death Eater! How he loved that muggleborn girl—”

“Don’t talk about them! Ever!” Valeria said, shaking in rage, the images of Konstantin’s and Jane’s lifeless faces flashing in her mind’s eyes. “And if you ever spread lies about me, lies that can get me killed, I will make sure it’s one of the last things you _ever do_!”

“I can’t believe I was stupid enough to trust you! I bet you were happy to marry _Malfoy_!” Ginny yelled.

“You take his name out of your filthy, blood traitor mouth!” Valeria was losing herself in fury and fear.

“We can’t let you leave, knowing what you know,” Longbottom said. “ _Obli—”_

But Valeria was able to anticipate their attack and cast a shield. Ginny cast hexes at her, but Draco’s ward, meant she hardly felt them. Having the slight upper hand, she cast a dark curse she had learned last year, _Metus Caligoria._ A fog spewed out from the tip of her wand, enveloping Ginny and Longbottom in a haze of disorientation, fear and confusion as soon as they inhaled the air. They fumbled around, calling out for each other, but seeing their figures, Valeria quickly used _Petrificus Totalus_ to bind their bodies and they fell perfectly still on the floor.

As the fog quickly dissipated, Valeria slowly approached them. She crouched between them and spoke low to them with trembling breath. “All glory for the Dark Lord.”

She stormed out of the room, the door disappearing behind her, and took off at a run down the corridors, figuring it was only a matter of time before one of the Gryffindors’ friends came prowling around looking for them. She sprinted down to the second floor to get to the Headmaster’s Office, brimming with anxiety over what she had done. She didn’t know what came over her in the end, but she had to cover her tracks.

She approached the gargoyle at the entrance to the office and spoke, _“All glory for the Dark Lord.”_

Obediently, the staircase to Snape’s office ascended before her and she made her way up the stairs and eventually reached the door to the office. She pounded relentlessly on the door, knowing Snape was probably awake and it flew open to reveal no one. She marched in, not taking a moment to look around at her surroundings, but did notice behind him a large glass case with a gleaming sword inside.

“Headmaster! Professor Snape!” she called around the large office with at least one other room behind the desk.

“He’s sending a letter!” a disgruntled painting shouted. “Calm yourself, girl. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Rolling her eyes, Valeria put her hands on the front of Snape’s stately desk and bowed her head to catch her breath.

“Ah, Valeria Winters,” a voice she knew not to be Snape’s said. She turned to face another fully filled shelf and saw the Sorting Hat moving about in its ancient seams. “How interesting to see you here.”

“It’s Mrs. Malfoy now,” Valeria said with snark back.

“I know you as I sorted you,” the Hat replied. “I sorted every Winters that came through these halls all the way back to when they first came to this school, many generations ago. Every single one I sorted into Slytherin. Quite an impressive feat.” 

Valeria was too agitated for lessons on familial history. “Hence why I’m in Slytherin, I know.”

The Sorting Hat laughed a little, or at least it sounded like something that could resemble a laugh. “Tradition does not determine sorting.”

“Blood purity, ambition, resourcefulness; I am well aware that I fit the bill, at least I did,” Valeria scoffed.

“I put you in Slytherin because I saw in your head that you wanted _more_ ,” the Sorting Hat replied cryptically.

“What does that even me—”

“Tell me, have you ever considered the possibility that you could be suited for another house?” the Hat asked.

“Never,” Valeria said, which was the honest truth.

“Precisely,” the Hat said. Before Valeria could respond or demand any sort of explanation, Snape entered the room from the door behind the desk, looking unhappy but not surprised to see her.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Snape greeted unhappily. “I trust that this is urgent.”

“It is, sir,” she replied. “I was approached by Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. They’re going to try to steal the Sword of Gryffindor.” Snape lifted an eyebrow, surprised but not angered, which Valeria found odd. Then again, Snape was a difficult person to read.

“They told you this explicitly?”

“Yes, sir, they did. They tried to get me to help them do it,” she said.

“Why would they ask for your help?” he asked. Valeria swallowed, terrified of that question.

“I wish I knew. Weasley seemed to believe that I would be willing to do it, she ranted about some things that I never said, but I told them in no uncertain terms that I was loyal to the Dark Lord,” Valeria explained. Snape eyed her for a moment, as if waiting for something more to reveal itself.

“This is troubling news and I thank you for bringing it to my attention. You are dismissed,” Snape said. Valeria was taken aback by how easy the conversation was.

“Sir, I know they’re working with other students. I don’t have much proof, but I think they might be trying to form some kind of group, like the DA was,” Valeria said.

“We will monitor these students. You are dismissed,” Snape said, taking a seat at his desk and looking down at his papers. Valeria took the hint and left, beginning her trek back down to the dungeons. She had nearly forgotten she was meant to meet Draco quite some time ago and chastised herself for not remembering. The interaction with Snape irked her though. She had to wonder why he didn’t even ask what Longbottom and Weasley wanted the sword for. Perhaps thievery in and of itself was enough for Snape, but that seemed unlike him.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” Draco said enraged, rushing to the door as soon as Valeria entered the deserted dungeon classroom. “I nearly went to the Carrows to go look for you!”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You can’t just disappear like that without telling me! You know our situation! We’ve been over this how many bloody times!?” he ranted.

“Will you let me finish?!” she shouted back. Still angered, he at least remained quiet while she talked. She told him the truth about what happened, having no desire to lie to him nor did she believe it wise. Though, she shamefully left out two important details: The first, that she secretly shared the password to Snape’s office and the second, that she suspected the two of them, and their compatriots, were trying to form a resistance group. Draco calmed after hearing it, but was still confused about the interaction itself.

“At least it doesn’t sound like they’ll try to bother you again,” Draco said with an exacerbated sigh. “It’s about time they get it in their heads that you’re not with them. Though, you never know with them; They could try again. You did the right thing though. Knowing that you reported them will help us stay in good graces. At least for now.”

She stared at the ceiling of her bed’s canopy that night, kicking herself for what she did. She knew she’d be plagued with anxiety over the sharing of the password being traced back to her, and searched her mind for what she would do if the day came that she was found out. She felt enormously guilty for putting Draco in harm’s way like that when she had formally and informally dedicated herself to keeping him safe. But if they were going to get out of this with any semblance of a meaningful life, something had to give.

And if the time ever came where she would have to sacrifice herself for Draco, she knew that she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more action this time. Sorry to skimp a little on the interactions with Draco, but it was important for the protagonist to be pulled in multiple directions here, once again. Thanks for sticking with me. Stay safe and well.


	17. Not All Hope is Lost

_"Why did you leave?" she asked in a rage._

_"Because I promised to keep you alive," he replied._

_*****_

“While the Dark Lord may have more important matters to contend with, we are still expected to run this school in his name,” Snape said to Valeria and Draco, sitting quietly before Snape’s desk while the Carrows stood nearby, staring down at the two students.

“And if we were to fail, we would all suffer,” Alecto said.

“As Head boy and Girl, it is your duty to make sure the prefects are in compliance with school policy,” Snape said, ignoring Alecto. “While a short adjustment period is understandable, it is clear that some prefects under your leadership are waning in their duties.”

“We can’t be everywhere at once,” Draco said. 

“Ignoring his duty is exactly what put your father in the position he’s in, Draco. Do you want to keep making excuses and end up like him?” Amycus asked. Rather than furrowing his brow in anger, Draco looked down to floor slightly, genuinely pained by the comment.

“Enough,” Snape said slowly, impatiently. “The both of you are meant to serve as models of behavior for the student body and are expected to lead as such.”

“Otherwise, we could look into replacing some of the problem prefects,” Alecto offered. “Crabbe and Goyle are proving to be model students, and they seem quite eager when it comes to—”

“We will discuss that if Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy cannot get the prefects under control,” Snape said adamantly.

Valeria left the meeting with Draco in anxious spirits. She was still quite nervous about the Gryffindors’ plans, knowing that she had given them what they wanted, albeit cryptically. Now the pressure of ensuring the new school policies were properly enforced only added fuel to the near constant firestorm of unease within her. It was becoming starkly clear that their original plan of trying to float through the conflict by keeping their heads down was unsustainable.

“What do we tell them?” she asked as they made their way down to the Potions classroom where the weekly prefects’ meeting was set to be held. Draco sighed, frustrated.

“We know who the problems likely are,” he said. “We just need to make it clear that they have to do more.”

“Longbottom will put up a fight,” Valeria said. Draco scoffed.

“I think we can handle Longbottom,” he said.

“That’s not what I meant. He was ready to erase my memory, remember? He’s been an issue from the beginning of term,” Valeria said.

“And you put him in his place because he’s _Longbottom_. He’s reckless and incompetent,” Draco said, rolling his eyes as they arrived at the empty Potions classroom.

“That doesn’t make him not a problem,” Valeria noted, leaning against the desk at the front of the room.

“I’m open to suggestions if you have any brilliant ideas,” Draco said standing beside her. Valeria thought for a moment.

“The last thing he would want is being replaced by the likes of Crabbe and Goyle,” Valeria said. “He needs to know how likely that is.”

“And?”

“He’s close with Abbott. I’ve seen them whispering together all the time in Muggle Studies. We could use her…make a show of it…” Valeria said. Draco was a bit taken aback, twisting his expression.

“You aren’t actually suggesting—”

“No. It doesn’t have to get that far, but he has to believe it could,” Valeria said.

“And if he calls our bluff?” Draco asked.

“Then we don't bluff. I doubt Longbottom will let it get that far,” she said. Draco nodded slowly, still apprehensive.

“We’ll dismiss everyone else first,” Draco said. Valeria agreed, knowing it’d be easier with Longbottom and Abbott alone. The other prefects began filing in, all taking their seats quietly and Valeria enchanted a quill to take the meeting minutes on parchment. Once they were all present, Draco asked for reports from the seventh-year prefects, Bulstrode’s hand shooting up first.

“…And then I caught Brown trying to run food to some first year that was barred for meals, so I think it’s easy to say Slytherin is doing quite well,” she said after rambling about her disciplinary accomplishments for several minutes.

“Good work,” Draco drawled. “Abbott and Macmillan?”

Valeria watched as Macmillan took the lead while Abbott sat on quietly, keeping her eyes away from the front of the room. Every once in a while, she would glance in Longbottom’s direction, who kept his eyes forward. Macmillan babbled and fumbled in his words, trying to sound like they were doing more than they actually were, but for all his obnoxious posturing in previous years, he was a poor liar. Ravenclaw was next, with Goldstein rattling off a few incidents of their own prefects, but there were only a few.

“That leaves Gryffindor,” Draco said with a sigh when Macmillan finished.

“I caught Harper using the Leg Locker Curse on a fifth-year to make him late for class, but the Carrows overruled me when I tried to give him detention,” Longbottom said with a shrug.

“That all?” Valeria asked pointedly.

“’Fraid so,” Longbottom said.

“Alright,” Draco said, shifting where he stood. “Now for the bad news. We just had a meeting with the Headmaster and the Carrows and they are not satisfied with your performances.” The mood of the room immediately turned to dread.

“What does that mean for us?” Goldstein said, dread in his eyes.

“It means that disciplinary action for underperforming prefects up to dismissal and replacement is on the table,” Valeria said.

“You have some time to fix your mistakes and we suggest you start as soon as possible. Is that clear?” Draco said to a round of tentative nods. Valeria and Draco gave out some minor updates, but the group seemed too distracted by their first news to take what followed into much consideration. Draco and Valeria dismissed the others, save for Longbottom and Abbott, who they called forward. Abbott watched Valeria as she disenchanted the quill taking notes.

“What do you want?” Longbottom asked, crossing his arms.

“We just wanted to emphasize the precariousness of your situation,” Valeria said. Longbottom was unmoved.

“You think I care if you replace me?” he asked.

“No, but you should,” Draco said.

“Either Crabbe or Goyle are likely to take over in your place,” Valeria said. “If that happens, that’s just one, or two, less people to look out your friends.”

“We can take of ourselves, thanks for your concern,” Longbottom said sarcastically.

“You think so?” Valeria asked, mustering all the intimidation she could, hoping that Longbottom would cooperate. She didn’t want to hurt Abbott. Longbottom laughed.

“I’m not scared of you,” he said. “And I’m sure as hell not going to do vile things to people just because you told me to. You’re idiots if you think otherwise.”

“Maybe you should be,” Valeria said. She removed her wand, prompting Neville to do the same, but Draco immediately disarmed him. Valeria aimed her wand directly at Hannah Abbott. The fear in the girl’s eyes so closely resembled the same fear in Jane Masters’ that Valeria nearly relented, but there wasn’t any going back. It had to be a show and she would not let Draco, or herself, suffer for others’ lack of cooperation with the new order. She and Draco in no way could risk even the shadow of a doubt as to their efforts and loyalties.

“What are you doing?! Stop!” Longbottom cried out.

“What happens next is up to you, Longbottom,” Valeria said. “If you don’t fall in line, she’ll suffer for it.”

“This is insane! You can hurt me all you like; You don’t have to do anything to her—”

“You need to understand what it feels like to be helpless,” Valeria shouted. “Will you comply?”

“Valeria, just let her g—” Longbottom calmly pleaded as tears welled in Abbott’s eyes. Valeria swallowed her own guilt, shoving compassion away to the darkest reaches of her mind with all her strength.

“This is your final warning, Longbottom!”

“You don’t want to do th—” Longbottom yelled.

“ _Assico—_ ”

“Alright!” Longbottom cried. “Alright! I’ll do it. Just let her go.”

Valeria nearly let out a sigh of relief herself, believing for a moment she would have to hurt Abbott. She lowered her wand, trying to shove down disgust with herself. Seeing both Abbott’s and Longbottom’s distress made her ill, but what got Valeria at her core was that she knew was capable of crossing that line.

“Good. Keep this in mind,” Valeria warned.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Longbottom said in disgust.

“You can go,” Draco said before Valeria could reply, handing Longbottom’s wand back. Longbottom ushered Abbott quickly out of the room. Draco and Valeria relaxed as best they could once the door was slammed shut.

“You alright?” Draco asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. She nodded.

“I think so,” she responded.

“You did what you had to do,” he said, himself sounding uncertain of his own reassurance.

“The Vestigum Permanens potion is a vastly underestimated concoction,” Slughorn prattled on in Potions a few days later. “It works much like paint and is of a similar viscosity, but it is permanent, unable to be scrubbed away by any spell. In fact, any attempt to do so will only spread it, and that’s the rub.” He paused for laughter at his poorly crafted pun to no response. He cleared his throat. “It’s been used to mark skin, as not even Polyjuice Potion can cover any marks the potion leaves. The only thing that can clean it is scrubbing it by hand using the Vim Extermina potion, a more recent invention.”

“He’s slacking off,” Draco observed after class was dismissed. “I’d hardly call glorified paint poison.”

“It’s still called Potions class,” Valeria said.

“And we’re meant to be studying poisons, not random things that _could_ be dangerous,” he responded. He had been in a bit of a disquieted mood over the past few days. The stress was wearing on him, most certainly, but there was hardly anything to be done. Valeria was almost relieved to be in the two classes she didn’t share with him.

“I’m terrible at charms,” she said to Lovegood in Magical Theory just two days later when they were given time to develop their final projects. “Trust me, you don’t want me to try to enchant anything. You can start work on the receptacle and I can start working on the spell itself.”

“Alright,” Lovegood said. The project had been Luna’s idea; A method of preserving voices in some kind of box and preserving them for messages or reminders by crafting a spell to save the speaker’s words and store them. Valeria thought it was silly, but she expected much worse ideas from Lovegood and was thankful she didn’t have to spend the energy coming up with something suitable herself. Lovegood though had been much shorter when talking to Valeria ever since the encounter with Weasley and Longbottom in the Room of Requirement. Valeria had thought being given the cold shoulder by Luna would have been a good thing, but it made interactions tense and awkward. Valeria was not used to being so disliked by someone like this. At least dividing the project would allow the two of them to work independently and only share notes in class when needed.

Patrol was eerily quiet that evening. She and Draco had split up again to cover more ground faster, agreeing to meet later as usual. It seemed that the prefects ramping up their own duties had scared most would-be rule breakers off as hardly a straggler out past curfew could be found as she wandered the cold, dreary corridors of the castle. She spent most of her strolling lost in thought, namely ruminating on her schoolwork, but every once in a while, a memory or pang of anxiety would intrude upon her contemplation and she had to work that much harder to shake herself from such thoughts.

She entered the hall just outside of the Great Hall, seeing the large pictures of her father and brother move slowly in the drafty room. She hated those images, looming over her and haunting her like ghosts. Surely, they’d both be ashamed of her, albeit for separate reasons, and that notion angered her; What else would they expect her to do and who were they to talk, if they were alive?

“Hey, Valeria,” Blaise said, startling her.

“What are you doing out?” she snapped a little.

“Patrolling…?”

“It’s mine and Draco’s night to patrol,” she told him.

“Ah, that makes sense. No wonder I haven’t seen Bulstrode out and about…”

“Look at your schedule next time. Just get back down to the common room,” she told him.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. I should have figured,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “I saw Malfoy skulking about the Astronomy Tower and thought it was odd.”

“He was? Why?”

“Yeah, just a bit ago,” he sighed. “And after last year, I learned not to ask him questions.” Blaise strode away without so much as a farewell and Valeria had half a mind to follow him down to the dungeons, but decided to change course and head for the Astronomy Tower herself. Draco had been avoiding getting near it since the start of term and she wondered why the hell he would go there now. She doubted being thorough in his patrol was his motivation.

She made her way up the many stairs to the very top, finding Draco leaning on the edge of the rampart, staring out into the night, illuminated only by the moonlight which still was shrouded by cloud cover. Valeria was tentative as she slowly approached. Draco stood at nearly the exact spot Dumbledore fell dead from and the cold stone beneath her feet brought horrid memories of that evening flashing before her eyes again. All the fear, the realization, seeing Draco standing with his wand pointed at Dumbledore crying out for the other Death Eaters to stop tormenting her…

But she saw his white blond hair reflect the moonlight, gently blown by the wind, alone and silent. It might have been almost peaceful. She was struck by him. Despite his often exhausted expression and the tension he carried in his body nearly every waking moment, she still found him handsome now, perhaps projecting her own desires onto him, but the reality hardly mattered. He was the one stable thing in her world now, and despite it all, that made him beautiful in her eyes, though she admitted it only to herself with bashfulness.

“Draco,” she called out quietly as she drew closer, startling him. He calmed when he turned to see her and she stood beside him on the ramparts looking out at the pitch-black grounds, knowing that even in the eerily lovely autumn night, dementors flew about down below.

“I hate this place,” he admitted softly.

“You’ve been saying that for years,” she said.

“No, not just the school. _This_ place.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” she said in agreement.

“Neither did I,” he said. “I just wanted to be outside again, as close as I could right now at least.” He took a long pause. “It was the worst night of my life.”

“Worse than our wedding?” she said, knowing exactly when he referred to.

“By far,” he said with a small nod.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked.

“What isn’t?” he said with a sad scoff, pinching the skin between his brows.

“You know what I mean. You’ve been…off for days now,” she said. He bit his lip.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. She reached out for his forearm.

“You’re the one who said we have to tell each other things. Everything,” she said. He looked at her with sadder eyes than she thought she’d ever seen. He was hard to read now, but she registered something resembling utter heartbreak. He swallowed.

“What you did, with Longbottom and Abbott, it was…it was just like what _they_ did to us here,” he admitted almost shamefully.

“Draco, that was different,” she said, reaching further up for his shoulder.

“Was it? It would have been their heads too if they didn’t see the job done.”

“I didn’t _want_ to do that to Abbott, and I didn’t even have to go through with it.”

“I know, but the look on Longbottom’s stupid face…I know what he was feeling.”

“What are you saying? Are you saying that I’m—”

“No,” he sighed. “I know you’re not, it just scared me. You were convincing and I’m saying that I don’t…I don’t want you to _end up_ like that. Especially not because of me.” Valeria was surprised for a plethora of reasons to hear such words coming out of his mouth.

“None of this is your fault.”

“Isn’t it? The whole reason the Dark Lord was going to kill you too if I didn’t kill Dumbledore was because my aunt told him what she saw in my head when we were practicing Occlumency,” he argued.

“What do you mea—”

“She told him what she saw. She told him that I had fe…she saw how important you were to me. That’s why he had us get married too and made _me_ responsible for everything _you_ do because that threat is still on the table after what happened here that night,” he said.

“I thought it was to punish us for our families and for failing with Dumbledore.”

“That’s part of it,” he agreed. “But you had to have realized it by now; Why it’s us together in particular. It’s because of me, my weaknesses. And I…I already almost lost you how many times? I can’t lose you like this either. I did everything I could to keep you out of this and I don’t know how much more I can really take.”

She didn’t have the heart to try to rationalize with him, being far too stunned by his whirling words, and knowing it wouldn’t do either of them any good. Instead, she gently went to embrace him, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting the side of her head on his chest. Slowly, shyly, he returned the embrace and she could hear his heart pounding underneath the layers of robes he wore. With her right hand, she gently pressed her hand to the side of his face and directed his gaze to hers.

“You are the only person who matters to me now,” she said earnestly, trying to get it through his head. “I promised that I would do _whatever_ I had to in order to keep you alive and I will.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“You’re not alone in any of this,” she insisted. “If the Dark Lord wins this war, then we have to secure ourselves some kind of stable position at the end so we even have a chance at some kind of decent life. We have to try and use—”

“Any means necessary?” he asked, anticipating her words. She nodded.

“I’m not with them, in any sense. I’m with _you_. That’s not going to change.”

“You’re the only good thing in my life,” he said.

“Likewise,” she said. He looked down at her with a sort of sad longing. He realized what he had already known, somewhere locked away, for some time; He well and truly loved her. He didn’t know if it was wise, or even if it was completely real, but it was real enough for him to be utterly at its mercy. He wanted to whisk her away from this horrible place, to prove himself a better young man than his choices had demonstrated him to be, but this tower was the closest he could bring her to the top of the world for now.

He leaned down and quickly kissed her with desperation. Surprised, but not unpleasantly so, she returned it. Her hands were tied. By force or by choice, she wanted to be with him.

When the time had come for them to go, the crisp autumn chill urging them on, they walked together back down to the dungeons. Valeria didn’t know whether she was happy or if she’d recognize such a feeling if she felt it, but she felt close to him, and that was enough for now. A ruckus on the second floor shook both of them in the silence of the corridor and they both went for their wands and followed the sound.

They found the Carrows leading Ginny, Neville and Luna out of Snape’s office, the former two looking rather satisfied with themselves. Valeria and Draco lowered their wands as soon as they saw them.

“What are you two doing out?” Alecto asked.

“Patrolling,” Draco answered immediately.

“Is that what they call it these days? Not to worry, we’ll let this one slide,” Amycus said to Valeria’s disgust, though she supposed he wasn’t entirely incorrect.

“What’s happened?” Draco asked nodding towards the captives.

“These ones broke into the Headmaster’s office and tried to steal a valuable artifact. Fortunately, Snape caught them in time,” Alecto said with a sickly grin.

“Almost like _someone_ told him,” Ginny spat, looking at Valeria.

“Quiet!” Amycus bellowed. “I wouldn’t test our patience any further if I were you. Back to your dormitories, Malfoys. We’ve got this under control.”

Valeria and Draco obeyed and made their way to the common room. Draco noted it was a good thing she tipped Snape off to the plot, as the culprits were unable to cause any trouble. Valeria was just relieved that, so far, her own scant involvement hadn’t been discovered. At least, not yet. The next morning, she and Draco walked together to breakfast and word of the foiled heist had already reached the entire school as they joined students from other houses outside of the dungeons. The gossip was hushed at the entrance of the Great Hall.

The banners depicting the so-called Fallen Heroes were tattered on the floor, Valeria noticing both her father’s and brother’s in shreds. Above the great hall, in thick red letters was scribed,

_NOT ALL HOPE IS LOST. FIGHT BACK._

The students around them whispered and murmured amongst themselves. Draco and Valeria looked at each other knowingly before McGonagall entered and ushered all the students into the Great Hall with stern commands. Draco and Valeria sat together at the Slytherin table while the gossip swelled in volume amongst the student body.

“Looks like Longbottom didn’t listen,” Draco commented. Valeria nodded solemnly. Her suspicions were all but confirmed; The DA was being reformed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to chop this one in half because there was a lot to get through and it was getting too long. Thank you for all the comments/kudos. They're all wonderful and I appreciate it. Thanks too for sticking with me. Stay well and safe.


	18. The Rest of Our Lives

_"It actually meant something to you?" she asked._

_"Like the book_ _said. Speaking is an action," he replied._

_*****_

Zabini and Bulstrode walked into the common room well after dinner had ended and their patrol was finished. The Fallen Hero banners had been repaired and rehung during the afternoon. Valeria was doing all she could to ignore the gossip swirling, going over her notes and texts for her Magical Theory project, anxious about falling behind. The seating available by the fireplace had mainly been occupied by older students and Valeria noticed once in a while that the younger members of her house often glanced out of the corner of their eyes at her with fear. All the same, having a comfortable place at her disposal to work at was certainly a plus.

Draco looked up from his Alchemy schoolwork, full of charts and diagrams Valeria didn’t pretend to understand, as Blaise plopped down near them.

“You were right, Nott,” Blaise said. “We overheard Slughorn say it was written with that painting potion which is why Filch made a huge mess of it when he tried to clean it.”

“Surprised Valeria didn’t spot it first,” Nott said. She rolled her eyes.

“There are more important things than some sad attempt at school vandalism,” Valeria said. “The bigger question is, who did it.”

“Isn’t it obvious? It has to be at least one of the Gryffindors,” Daphne said. “They’ve been acting up all year.”

“And they’re the only ones dumb enough to actually try it,” Pansy agreed.

“My money’s on Longbottom,” Blaise said.

“The Carrows were carting him off with Weasley and Looney just hours before it happened,” Draco said, finally speaking up, but with his nose still in his schoolwork. “It would have been nearly impossible for him to sneak back out of Gryffindor Tower.”

“Then it was probably one of his lackeys, then,” Blaise argued. “Longbottom picked the worst time to finally grow himself some balls.”

“But there aren’t any Gryffindors in Potions, so how’d they even learn about it? With Granger gone, I doubt any of them would have the foresight to open a damn book,” Nott said.

“One of the Ravenclaws could have told them about it or shared their notes on how to make it. That’d be my guess anyway,” Draco said.

“Whatever the case, the Carrows aren’t going to stop until they’ve caught who did it,” Nott said.

Blaise nodded. “Yeah, the Carrows were still raging when we passed them on patrol. They’re overreacting if you ask me.”

“Careful, Blaise,” Daphne said.

“The Dark Lord won’t react well if they lose control of the school,” Draco offered.

“I hardly call some idiot scribbling on the wall ‘losing control,’” Blaise said.

“No, but the messaging is important. It was a call for resistance and that’s what cannot happen,” Valeria said.

“Like anyone is going to actually listen,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “Dumbledore’s dead and Potter’s days are numbered. There’s no one left to protect them. It’d be suicide.”

“I know,” Valeria said. “Doesn’t mean they’re going to let this slide.”

Slughorn, their new Head of House entered shortly after while the older Slytherins continued lazily debating about who did or did not have a hand in the graffiti incident. He magically amplified his voice to call all the Slytherins to the middle of the common room and those who were studying put their schoolwork on hold to listen, though Draco seemed the most agitated at being forced to break his concentration. Once all had gathered, Slughorn unfurled a roll of parchment and read aloud.

“ _From the desk of Headmaster Severus Snape. In light of the recent vandalism of school grounds and property, myself and the faculty of Hogwarts call upon any students or staff who have any information about the perpetrator or perpetrators to come forward immediately. If no one should come forward, interrogations of suspected individuals will commence at the discretion of the Professors Carrow. Do note, that the defacement of the honored dead is particularly egregious given the relatives of the fallen who are students at this school and will be punished accordingly. Prefects, as well as students, are advised to monitor their peers’ behavior closely and come forward with any learned information. Finally, no students are permitted to gather in groups greater than three persons for the purposes of unofficial organizations.”_

“If anyone would like to come forward, you may seek me out in my office and you’ll provided anonymity,” Slughorn continued. “Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I trust you understand to pay additional attention to other students for the time being.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco said while Valeria nodded. Slughorn departed after a final warning, obviously not wanting to linger. The students continued the rumor mill until they slowly shuffled off to bed, little by little. Draco and Valeria had elected to remain in the common room alone late into the night, working on their various studies in peace and quiet. Draco hardly looked up while Valeria took a vase on a table and dumped its contents, nightshade flowers, into the fireplace and worked tirelessly on her spell craft experimentation.

“Test, test, test,” she spoke at each attempt, thinking the words of the spell she had crafted _Vox Aufero_. Eventually, to her relief it seemed to work as from the tip of her wand floated a string of pleasant white light in jagged, moving waves. Carefully, she lowered the light into the vase and released it, quickly covering the top of the vase with the palm of her hand.

After a moment, she released her hand, only to hear some garbled, inhuman growling that only vaguely resembled her own voice. She was ready to give it up and propose an easier project to Lovegood as this was seeming quite hopeless.

“You’re doing it again,” Draco muttered.

“What?”

“You sigh a lot when you’re frustrated,” he said.

“How observant of you,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Comes with the territory of knowing you my whole bloody life,” he said with a shrug, still looking down at his own work.

“If it bothers you so much then you can go to bed or try doing this yourself,” she said. “I don’t even see the point of doing fucking homework in the middle of a war.” He laughed a little. “What is with you tonight?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just sounds like things I’ve been saying for years.”

“Maybe I should be worried we’ve known each other too long if you’re starting to rub off on me like that,” she said, leaning her head back on sofa. He shut the book he was taking notes from and looked at her. 

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish?” he asked. She explained the project to him, both hers and Lovegood’s parts, and he listened.

“Well, you’re going to have to enchant whatever you put the voice in eventually,” he said.

“I’m aware, but that’s Lovegood’s job or weren’t you listening?”

“Calm down,” he said. “From where I see it, you’re not telling the voice what to do once you’ve taken the words from your throat and that might be why it sounds like a feral cat trying to play music when it’s in the vase.”

She thought about it, and kicked herself for not having known better. He was probably right. “I’m open to suggestions.”

He rifled through his schoolbag and sorted through some parchment notes of his own, finally landing on one that he quickly read through. He set it down and pointed to a line on the page and she approached to read it, struck again by his tidy handwriting.

“Some form of the _Servatus_ charm could work,” he said. “You’d have to adapt it a little, probably, because it’s mainly used to keep food from spoiling, but that seems to be the closest for what you’re after.”

She had to admit, she was a little impressed. Looking at his notes, a form of that spell would likely be the one that did the trick. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “You would have known what to do if you would have ever paid attention in Charms.”

“The proper response is ‘You’re welcome, Valeria,’” she said, borrowing Draco’s old Charms notes and collecting her materials.

“I’d rather tell you the truth,” he said. “Going to bed?”

“Yeah, I’m spent.”

“I helped you with your homework, what about mine?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t offer.”

“I don’t know the first thing about Alchemy, why would you want my help?” she asked.

“Because the professor’s been harping for weeks about how Alchemy is just as spiritual and philosophical as it is a science. He keeps saying ‘ _Transmutation of material is equal parts transmutation of the soul_ ,’ and I have no clue what he’s talking about. You’re better at the philosophy stuff than I am.”

She yawned. “You still have that book I gave you last Christmas? The one about magical ethics?”

“Yeah.”

“Start with that. I’ll help you with the concepts once you actually read it. ‘Night,” she said, turning towards the girls’ dormitory.

“’Night,” Draco nodded to her. While she was settling into bed, he quietly dug through his things to fish out the book she gave him before returning back down to his study spot in the common room. He sat back with a quill in hand, ready to start making notes in the margins at the start of the first chapter, skipping the introduction altogether.

 _Chapter I: Is Magic Moral?_

_The question titling this chapter is perhaps inherently misleading. The question is not to ask whether magic itself is moral to practice (which even the most essentialist philosophers would find to be a laughable inquiry,) rather, the question above is designed to ask; Can magic have a moral code placed upon it in order to determine what forms of it are either moral or immoral? Unfortunately, this breeds even more questions than answers, hence the length of this very tome, which is designed to be a simple reader for the philosophically curious._

_We shall be primarily concerned with this question for the entirety of this text, but these fractal inquiries stemming from it are equally worthy of consideration, in fact, they are arguably necessary. If moral guidelines can be placed upon the practice of magic, than what would such a moral code look like? Is it a compass, four-pointed with room for ambiguity? A spectrum or continuum? Are certain forms of magic **always** moral or immoral? How do these codes change across culture and time?_

_The most interesting question, to my mind, above all others is: Do intentions matter?_

_Are curses always curses, if done to maximize the utility of the greater whole? Are spells and potions that illicit euphoric feelings always in the best interest of the recipients? Is Dark Magic (a topic explored in the seventh chapter) dark if used for a righteous purpose? And how much must a witch or wizard believe they’re doing the, so called, right thing even if utilizing traditionally darker magic. Who determines what is and what is not right?_

_Mindboggling, yes, but wholly necessary. As the magical world opens itself up more and more over the centuries, these are the very questions that each mage must ask of themselves regularly as they grow and learn in their powers—_

“Malfoy?”

Draco looked up, slightly startled, at the sound of his own name to find Daphne Greengrass emerging from the girls’ dormitory.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, aggravated.

“I’m in Slytherin too, remember?” she said folding her arms and glaring at him.

“Why are you up?”

“Valeria woke me up when she came up to bed. Told me you were still down here.”

“What do you want?” he asked, letting the book fall to the table and pinching the skin between his brow.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while about her,” she said. “I have to ask…she said it wasn’t up to you, but I want the truth straight from you. Did you have any part of it?”

Draco didn’t have to ask what she was referring to. “It was arranged, in the old way. Neither of us had any part of the decision. Happy?” He was extremely careful with his words, paranoid of saying the wrong thing that could land him in a world of pain. Daphne eyed him, staring him down, searching for a speck of dishonesty.

“She’s changed,” Daphne said, as if to herself.

“Who hasn’t Greengrass? We all have to show our loyalty and with the new order comes new rules. That’s not my fault,” he argued.

“She’s my friend, Malfoy. I just don’t want to see her hurt because of this,” she said, seeming to know that it was already too late for such sentiments.

“You think _I_ want that to happen? Is that what you think of me? All of you, is that what you all think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Daphne said. Too angry to carry on with the interrogation, Draco collected his things and shoved them untidily into his bag.

“Then maybe you should stop trying,” he said before storming off to the boys’ dormitories.

“I heard Longbottom and the others had detention with Hagrid in the forest,” Draco whispered to Valeria over dinner a few days later.

“That’s not so bad then,” she said. “I thought Snape would make an example out of them.”

“When I had detention in the forest, it was miserable. My parents were furious they even allowed students in there,” he said. “I’m just glad neither of us were put up to giving detention.” A cough behind them, made them both turn and Lovegood was standing a bit nervously behind them, holding a small box in her hands.

“I think I’m off to a good start, if you want to try it,” she said, handing the box to Valeria.

“You can talk about it in class, Lovegood,” Draco said. Valeria glared at him and took the box from Lovegood.

“Thanks, I’ll start experimenting with it,” she said.

“It’s just a prototype…”

“It’s fine Lovegood, we’ve got time to work out the kinks. I’ll see you in class,” Valeria said dismissively. Fortunately, Lovegood had the wisdom to take the hint and Valeria returned to her dinner after storing the box in her bag. The investigation into who had painted the writing on the wall was still ongoing and to Valeria’s unease, picking up in severity. Several students from each house save Slytherin had been interrogated already and not a single one came out of Amycus Carrow’s office unshaken.

“Mrs. Malfoy.”

Valeria looked up to see Professor Snape looking down his nose at her. Draco too turned to look at him, a worried look in his eye.

“Yes, sir?” she asked.

“Please come to my office after dinner,” he said. He looked at Draco. “Alone.”

“Can I ask what this is about?” she said.

“No,” Snape replied. “It’ll be explained upon your arrival.”

He walked off without another word and Valeria’s gut filled with fear. Draco, sensing her anxiety, placed a hand on her knee.

“I’ll walk you there,” he said reassuringly, hiding his own nerves, the uncertainty eating them both up. Looking for the Carrows in a futile attempt to try to glean a clue from the expressions, Valeria caught a glance of the Ravenclaw table and noticed Goldstein whispering to a morose Terry Boot, which she found odd. The rest of dinner passed far too quickly and once out of view of other students, Draco took Valeria’s hand firmly in his as they walked to the Headmaster’s office. He took her into an embrace and hesitantly let go of her hand. “It’s going to be fine. Find me after.”

She nodded and spoke the password. Draco watched as she disappeated up the stairwell. Before she had a chance to knock on the door, it flew open on its own and she entered to find Snape seated and the Carrows at his side. Most unusually, she spotted a boy with his head bowed, sitting before Snape’s desk. The Carrows wore satisfied smiles as she approached and Valeria stopped near the side of the desk.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked.

“Mr. Longbottom has confessed to vandalizing school property and defacing the wall. He will serve detention for what he’s done,” Snape said.

“I’m glad the culprit was found,” Valeria said still confused.

“We decided that, since your poor father and brother’s images were almost destroyed, that you should be the one to carry out her punishment,” Alecto said. At once, Valeria understood what she was meant to do and hid away all apprehension.

“You’ve done well so far in disciplinary matters, and we’ve seen your abilities first hand,” Amycus said. Valeria nearly gulped remembering all three were there to see her torture Jane Masters. “Consider this a reward for your loyalty.”

“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “I won’t let you down.”

“We know,” Alecto said.

“Dungeon Four would probably be a suitable place. Can you escort Longbottom on your own?” Snape asked. Valeria nodded. Snape passed Longbottom’s wand to Valeria who tucked it away before removing her own wand. They were both dismissed and Valeria shared some kind of knowing look with Snape that she could not entirely place. She kept her wand aimed at the back of Longbottom’s head as they made their way to the dungeons. Neville walked proudly, with his head held high, but fortunately all other students seemed to have retreated to their respective common rooms and they therefore avoided any potential gawking.

Valeria securely locked the door behind them in Dungeon Four and ignited the sconces on the wall with her wand, casting an orange glow in the still dim room, though the warm color did nothing to abate the coldness of the room itself. With another wand-wave, Valeria summoned a chair and hexed Neville to sit in it.

“So, you’ve done this before,” Longbottom said lowly, with more confidence than she had ever heard him speak with. “I should have known after what you did to Hannah.”

“I have, once and only once,” Valeria admitted.

“Once too many then,” Longbottom said. “Go on then. Get it over with.”

Valeria inhaled, making her choice. “I’m not going to do that, Longbottom.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to do it.”

“What is your deal?!” he said. “You think you can play both sides forever? That your _Dark Lord_ isn’t going to figure it out eventually? Or maybe your pathetic coward of a husband—”

Valeria hexed him, but only slightly, briefly knocking the wind out of Neville to quiet him for a moment. “You can say whatever you like about me, but if you so much as mention him, I will make this much worse for you.”

“I don’t get you at all. You’re almost happy to be with him! Ginny told us about what you did at the Burrow, how you helped the Order, but now you’ve tortured people and you’re handing out detentions left and right. Do you even _know_ what they’ve done to the ones who got detention? But then, you’re giving out the bloody password to Snape’s office, but you also warned him ahead of time, making it pointless! What is _wrong_ with you?!” Longbottom ranted.

“That’s right, you figured that out,” Valeria said. “I almost didn’t think you would, given none of you are really the discerning type, especially with Granger gone.”

“I figured it out,” Neville said with pride. “And _fuck_ you.”

“Eloquent as ever, Longbottom,” Valeria said with a sigh.

“So, what? Are we just going to sit here and chat for an hour or two?” he asked. Valeria set her bag down and removed Luna’s enchanted box.

“I think you’re going to help me with my homework,” Valeria said.

“You’re mad,” he said.

“That’s an odd way to say ‘ _thank you for not torturing me_ ’, and if it’s not torture enough for you, we can do this the Carrows’ way,” Valeria said approaching Longbottom. She held the tip of her wand to his throat. “Talk.”

“I’m not telling you a damn thing—”

“I don’t care what you say. I just need you to talk. You could speak Greek for all I care,” Valeria said, exacerbated. Longbottom hesitated a moment.

“I think you’re a foul, traitorous spoiled brat and a coward at that. You spent all last year protecting _Malfoy_ , nearly killed Ron and helped Snape kill Dumbledore. You’re a disgrace, unable to actually commit to do doing the right thing! Acting like you’re everyone’s friend when you’re only out for yourself!” Longbottom raved, raging. All the while Valeria was working on the spell she crafted, pulling his words from his throat. She opened the white box and carefully closed Longbottom’s words, the white jagged light, inside of it. The box began to rattle and shake as if it were about to explode.

“Interesting,” Valeria said.

“What is that?” Longbottom asked.

“Mine and Lovegood’s Magical Theory project. It just stores things you say, that is, if we’ve done it right,” Valeria explained. “Also, you should scream, as hard and as long as you can, every once in a while, just in case someone’s walking by to check on us.” Longbottom did so without protest, almost seeming to enjoy being absolutely annoying and obnoxious about it. “Great. Do that every ten minutes or so.”

Valeria carefully opened the box and Neville’s rant was quite clear, much better than previous attempts thanks to Lovegood’s handiwork. Though it wasn’t perfect yet; The emitted voice crackled and stuttered a bit as it was released, but it was definitely progress. Valeria was not yet satisfied.

“I’m going to have try different modifications on the spell. The box seems to respond to intense emotions, so we’re going to do this again except not so angry this time,” Valeria said, positioning her wand back at Neville’s throat. Frustrated, Neville obliged, talking about how much he missed his friends who were currently in hiding.

They did this several times, Neville continuing to scream in feigned pain every once in a while, for security reasons and Valeria adjusting the spell she used slightly each time. It still was an imperfect product, a bit clumsy even, and Valeria struggled to determine whether it was the box or the spell, or both, that was causing the issues.

“Alright, let’s try again,” Valeria said, moving her wand into position.

“Wait. Can we take a break? My voice is really strained,” Neville asked. The screaming especially had taken a toll, given his gravelly sound and Valeria nodded.

“I don’t think you did it,” Valeria said. “I don’t think you wrote on the wall.”

“Yes, I did,” Neville said quietly.

“You managed to get out of Gryffindor Tower again, after getting caught breaking into Snape’s office with enough of the Vestigum Permanens potion, which by the way, was taught in a class you’re not in and is a subject you’re terrible at, and destroy the memorials all on your own?” she asked sarcastically. “The Carrows might be dumb enough to buy it, or eager enough to punish someone for it, but I highly doubt it.”

Neville looked down at the floor and then back up to her. “If you didn’t think I did it, why didn’t you say so in Snape’s office?”

“Because I don’t care who did it, Longbottom. I just want this over with,” Valeria said. “I am curious though, that’s why I said it.”

Neville laughed a little. “It was Seamus. Boot told us how to make the potion, and a bunch of us made a little to combine it together. When they started… _interrogating_ people and Seamus has already had detention five times…I confessed. Ginny volunteered to take the fall, since it was her idea, but I didn’t want that to happen.”

“Ah, that makes more sense,” Valeria said. “Doesn’t explain why you all did it to begin with though?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it was reckless and stupid, but I don’t think any of you cared much about that,” Valeria said.

“We needed to get the word out, even if we got in trouble, that we _can_ fight back. It was worth the risk,” he said. “You going to tattle to the Headmaster about it?

Valeria scoffed. “And get myself in your hot water too? No. Now that the alleged culprit’s been dealt with, it’s over.”

“It’s not over,” he insisted.

“To each their own then,” Valeria said. “Ready to have another go?” Neville was reluctant, more annoyed than anything, but agreed.

 _Vox aufero serva,_ Valeria thought, trying the last combination of words her tired mind could think of at the moment. This time, Neville’s voice floating out the tip of her wand felt lighter, easier to control in her hand, and gently settled into the box with ease. Opening it again, Neville’s words, a list of all the names of those missing or dead that he could remember, rang out clear. Valeria was elated and decided that it was time to end after the long tedium of the evening.

“Wait. You need to look like you’ve been tortured for hours,” Valeria said before she released him. She tipped the boy’s head back with her left hand and positioned her wand.

“How?"

“My mother was an expert at beauty spells, but she also told me how to take it away,” Valeria explained. She made his hair greasy and messy, put dark circles under his eyes, made the whites appear bloodshot, and the skin around the eyes all puffy and pink. She made him paler, taking some color from his cheeks. Finally, to his dismay, a small shallow cut at the chin for a finishing touch.

“What was that for?!”

“It has to look _real_ , Longbottom!” Valeria insisted, stepping back to admire her craftsmanship. “Yeah, that’ll do. Carrows won’t bat an eye. The cut will heal fine on its own, won’t even scar. Might want to keep this up for the next day or so, just for emphasis, but that’s up to you.” Valeria released Longbottom’s sore body from being bound to the chair and he stood to stretch his aching muscles.

“Do you need to escort me back or…?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Valeria said. “Just don’t do anything reckless for now.”

“Right,” he said awkwardly. “I guess…thanks for not doing worse…”

“If you keep this up, it won’t end well. This is the most I’ll be able to do and I won’t risk my own neck for any of you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop all of this. I’m warning you, don’t reform the DA,” she said.

“You can still fight, Winters. There’s still time,” Longbottom said. Valeria lifted her left hand, her rings facing forward and glistening in the flickering firelight.

“Even if I wanted to, I don’t have a choice. You don’t have much of a choice either and the sooner you figure that out, the better off you’ll be” she said. “And it’s Malfoy now.”

“You’ll make your choices and I’ll make mine,” he said.

“I didn’t expect to convince you,” she said with a sigh as she collected her things. “Just don’t expect a prayer from me.”

“I just can’t figure it out. Are you on our side or theirs? At least do me a favor and be honest for once.”

She held his wand out to him. “I’m on the side that keeps Draco and I alive. That I’ve long since decided.”

Draco stood to meet Valeria when she entered the common room.

“Sorry about that. Everything’s fine—”

“I know,” he replied. “I asked Snape when you didn’t come back. How are you?” He was deeply concerned for her, that much was plain.

“I’m fine, really. It was fine and now it’s over,” she said. He was taken aback by her dismissal. He reached for her arm and gently pulled her close. There weren’t many students in the entrance of the common room, but he had to be careful.

“You were shaking after what happened with Abbott. We just talked about how I didn’t want this to make you like…like that,” he whispered.

“I didn’t do anything. I just pinned him to the chair and had him help me with my Magical Theory project,” she whispered back.

“You went easy on him?”

“So you wanted me to torture him?”

“No,” he said. “That’s not what I mean. If anyone finds out that you did—”

“No one’s going to tell. No one will find out.”

“You have to be careful. It’s me on the line too, remember?”

“Of course, I remember! You never shut up about it,” she said, pulling away from him.

She joined the rest of her peers in the exclusive area of the common room near the fireplace, Draco following behind. She lied and told them all that Longbottom had confessed and that she herself carried out the discipline. Crabbe and Goyle laughed, even Blaise found it a bit amusing, but the others had their curiosity sated and didn’t inquire any further. As the night wore on, the students eventually went to bed, leaving Draco and Valeria alone again, each taking advantage of their respective restlessness to lazily get some schoolwork out of the way.

“I forgot to tell you,” she said. “Your idea worked. I tried it on Longbottom. Let me show you.” Draco watched as Valeria took out Luna’s enchanted box and carefully opened it.

 _“…Mrs. Abbott, Dean Thomas, Hermione Granger, Garrick Ollivander, Jane Masters, Colin Creevey, Harry Potter…”_ Longbottom’s voice rang out. Clear, but quiet. Draco’s expression twisted back and forth from impressed to concerned.

“That Longbottom?” he asked. Valeria nodded.

“Just told him to keep talking. He just rambled the names,” she said.

“You should probably get rid of that one,” he said darkly.

“I was planning on it. I’m just going to read from the text book for when I show it to Lovegood,” she said.

“Well, I’m glad you actually listened to me for once,” he said, half-joking. He rummaged around in his bag. “I almost forgot. Mother sent letters and there’s one for you.” He handed her a small envelope with _V. Malfoy_ on the address line.

“I’m surprised we haven’t been getting more from her,” Valeria observed, opening it.

“I’m sure father’s been discouraging it or else she’d probably be sending one a day,” Draco said.

“That seems unlike him, telling her what to do, I mean. Seems unlike her to listen,” she said.

He let out a long sigh. “Yes, well. He’s not the man I once knew. Not anymore.” There was a great deal of sadness in voice and exhausted pain in his expression, and Valeria decided not to push the issue for the moment. After all, she had observed some of it herself while living at Malfoy Manor. The proud, imposing Lucius was a frightened husk of his former self and she knew that neither she nor Draco could count on him to take a stand for them, even if he had desperately wanted to. She looked away from Draco and to Narcissa’s letter.

 _Dear Valeria,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I hope too that you have taken time to adjust whilst you’re still at school. I can only imagine how strange it must feel to be the only married young lady amongst your classmates. I hope your friends, and Draco, have been kind to you in this regard. I have heard from your mother, and she is faring well with family abroad, though she worries about you and I promised to update her on how you’re doing._

_I look forward to having you and Draco home for the holidays. It’s a bit early, but I’ve planned a gift for you both that will hopefully make you feel more welcome in our family. Lucius and I care for you very much and love you dearly. You will always be treated as our own daughter whilst we draw breath._

_I must ask you, if you would indulge a worried mother, please tell me how Draco is doing and be as honest as you safely can. As I’m sure you know, the responsibility of your union has weighed on him as well, and I worry at times as you two are still just so young._

_Finally, some documents will likely soon be sent your way for signature. Given the state of the Ministry, it’s later than usual. As you are the heiress to the Winters estate, assets and fortunes, your signature is required, legally speaking, to bring those assets under the Malfoy umbrella as a result of your marriage. As far as we’re concerned, they are still yours and are still under your mother’s authority until you inherit them anyway. Regardless, legally, those assets belong, at least by half, to Draco as well._

_I understand this may be a bit upsetting, but keep in mind that this is only a legal formality as a result of the new order and nothing will materially change._

_I trust you are handling your circumstances with the grace and dignity, as you always have._

_Yours,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Any good mood that Valeria was in as a result of the breakthrough on her project vanished. Her dismay must have been clear from her expression as Draco rushed to sit beside her on the sofa.

“Has something happened? What did she say?” he asked.

“I’ll have to sign something, transferring the Winters’ assets under the Malfoy name, making them yours too when I inherit them,” she said. He gently lifted her face up to look at him.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he said. “I don’t want your money and I’ll never need it anyway. Those are yours.”

“Legally, they’re yours too,” she argued. His eyes glanced at his mother’s letter.

“No, she’s right. It’s just a stupid legal thing. You don’t have to do anything with the estate that you don’t want to do. I promise, it’s not a big deal. You weren’t even set to inherit the estate until Konstantin—” he said, catching himself mid-sentence. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. It’s just another reminder of…everything,” she said.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, trailing off. “You should write back as soon as you can. If she doesn’t hear from you soon, she’ll get nervous.” Valeria nodded and got to it immediately, being quite careful with her words.

 _Dear Narcissa,_

_Thank you for your thoughtful letter. I am doing well and keeping a focus on my duties and studies. Everyone here has been supportive and respectful of our unusual position, for which I’m grateful. Please tell my mother that I’m doing just fine and look forward to seeing her when this war is over. Thank you for being her friend through this._

_Draco is doing the same as me, focusing on his schoolwork and we’ve worked together well so far. He has taken quite a liking to Alchemy and really enjoys getting lost in the material, or so he’s told me. He has been nothing short of a dutiful and respectful spouse. I believe I can speak for both of us when I say that we both look forward to seeing you and Mr. Malfoy again over the holiday recess. I am very proud and thankful to call you both family._

_I will look for the documents and sign them promptly. I understand that it’s a legal matter and Draco and I have discussed it. Thank you for the advanced information._

_I hope you are doing well yourself. Trust that we are doing the best we can._

_Love,_

_Valeria T. Malfoy_

Draco watched her write, feeling terribly guilty again. It felt astonishingly much like last year; how he had taken and taken from her without little to give in return. Though she did well trying to hide it, he knew her far too well at this point to believe that it did not wear on her. He had taken her freedom, her name and now her family legacy. While he knew his hand was forced as well as hers, he still could not shake the feeling of the authority he imposed on her by being the head of their, so-called, household, as the traditions spurned by the Dark Lord’s movement dictated. Draco never liked responsibility. His whole childhood he wanted leadership without consequence, his father’s behavior modelling the possibility for him, at least through a child’s eyes.

This was only draining and humiliating. A faux-responsibility meant only to demonstrate loyalty and grasp at the possibility of obtaining a stable position someday. His father had failed and it was put upon Draco to make up for it even though it was blatantly plain he hadn’t the slightest idea how

If marriage was a demonstration of closeness, he found his own ironic. Indeed, they’d never been closer in many ways, but he could not ignore the pestering feeling of further away from her than he ever had, even when they were the most at odds over the years. He’s spent so long feeling the highest and mightiest of all his peers, of nearly anyone, and now that it was all but gone, he realized with heart-strangling sadness. He had the best of everything for what felt like one glorious singular moment. He had had her like he wanted, and he squandered it in the wastes of the fallout of his own choices. He had so taken it all for granted that it was lost on him when she was, metaphorically, gone.

His heart sunk to realize it when he was too friendless and impotent to recover a mere hint of what it once was.

“You’re doing it,” she said. Shaken from the murky passages of his thoughts, he raised an eyebrow at her. “You furrow your brow a lot when you’re thinking.”

He took a moment to collect something sensible to say. “You don’t think we’re getting out of this, do you?”

Valeria looked at him, sharing with him a tired and defeated gaze. His words struck her deep. He had said, vaguely, what they both had been thinking for a while. “It seems the Dark Lord has as good as won.”

“Even if he didn’t, I…I don’t think they’d just let us go. Not again. Not after what we’ve done,” he said, trailing off as though he were thinking aloud. Valeria wanted to disagree with him, but she knew the truth. He was a Death Eater, actively fighting for the Dark Lord and she was doing her part too. Their private cause was lost and they both knew it.

“So this is it? The rest of our lives?” she asked. He nodded.

“I think so,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking it through this far and all the kind words and kudos! Stay safe and well, all.


	19. Making the Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some magical violence ahead.

_"We should have run when we had the chance," she said._

_"The choice was made for us before we were even born. We never had a chance," he replied._

_*****_

It was impossible to concentrate.

As the days passed, Valeria’s thoughts became wildly preoccupied with the possibilities of her future as a Death Eater’s wife; a future that was, she accepted now, absolutely certain. Draco’s idea to dissolve the marriage should the Dark Lord lose was in all actuality a mere emotional stopgap; A fantasy to soothe their disbelief and weakness in facing the truth.

She had never been the type to devote painstaking planning to her future. Given her parents’ status and influence, she could choose to do whatsoever she wished, so long as she maintained decent marks and a solid reputation befitting her surname. She imagined herself in the Department of Mysteries, working on the great mysteries of magic with other like-minded, interesting people. As she never wanted to venture there again after Konstantin’s death, she was equally happy to take up an apprenticeship under a Potions Master somewhere far away. Perhaps, if she was not terribly keen on that, she could study magical thought and philosophy on the Continent. All worthy options and all a far cry from now.

The rings on her left hand caught her attention as she absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the sparsely filled parchment, that was eventually supposed to be an essay on memory poisons for Slughorn’s class. She was not that young lady anymore. She was Draco Malfoy’s wife. As true as that was, then who was Draco Malfoy now?

He was certainly not his ruthless father, at least not now. He did not possess the even-minded shrewdness of her own father, which carried the latter out of a name falling into disrepute and won again the respect of the wizarding world after the first war. Draco was no Konstantin who, by all accounts, was a model young man who lead with natural ease. Valeria’s choices and errors had already gotten both of them killed, and though she had a hard time faulting Draco for being unable to murder Dumbledore, she did not believe that his responsibilities would ease once the war was over, no matter how much she hoped they would.

More would be asked of Draco. He would be pushed further, the constant threat of death hanging over his head. And when he did falter, even inadvertently or despite his best efforts, what would become of both of them? The Dark Lord had a strangle hold on him, and by extension, her. Being his wife was going to be much more than locking herself away in Malfoy Manor and trying to live in peace. It could always get much, much worse.

“Valeria.”

She whipped around at the harsh whisper behind her to see Ginny approach in the path between shelves to Valeria’s private little nook. She nodded in greeting, tensing upon seeing Ginny again.

“I told you that you can’t come to me like this,” Valeria scolded, whispering when Ginny was close.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t even know you were here since you’re not usually out and about like this,” Ginny said. Weasley was right about that. Valeria spent her time outside of the Slytherin common room at meals, in class, patrolling or seeking some sanctuary in an abandoned classroom with Draco. The only reason she chose to spend her free period in the library was that she had grown tired of the conversations and rumors she overheard in the common room; Who was missing, who was involved, who was likely dead, what students were going to get targeted or in trouble next. The library was at least silent, albeit equally cloaked in an air of dread.

“What do you want?” Valeria asked, eyes darting around for potential eavesdroppers.

“Neville told us what you did during detention, or what you didn’t do,” Ginny said.

“And?” Valeria said.

“I just wanted to say…that was good of you, I guess,” Ginny said, seeming a bit surprised and unable to find the words. Valeria rolled her eyes.

“You can’t be bringing this up like that and I made it perfectly clear to Longbottom that I can’t help any of you,” Valeria said.

“I just wanted to say that…I just thought you were a lost cause with everything—”

Valeria indignantly began collecting all her materials and shoved them in her bag, giving up on getting any real work done. She stood to face Ginny, but given that the girls were around the same height, it was difficult to loom over Weasley like she would have wanted.

“Let me make it perfectly clear to you then,” Valeria began. “I am not your friend. I am not your ally. I will not help you. And if there’s a shadow of a doubt about me, I will make damn sure to prove where my loyalties lie, no matter what that means for you.”

“Is the blood traitor bothering you, _Mrs. Malfoy_?”

Valeria looked up and Ginny turned sharply to see Goyle smirking with his arms folded, proudly standing in the way of the girls and the exit and taking up the entire aisle with his stocky body. Valeria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Crabbe and Goyle had left her alone for the most part so far, though she often caught them glancing her way, eyeing her in a way that made her feel ill. She had a feeling their avoidance of her was Draco’s doing, as in previous years she made her opinion of the two dunces blatantly clear. Judging by his tone now, Goyle was relishing the opportunity to address her by her married name and she grew a little concerned given the Carrows emboldening them.

“You lost, Goyle? Never thought I’d see you in the library or has mummy finally taught you the alphabet?” Ginny said.

“Watch your mouth, Weasley,” Goyle warned. “Disrespecting your betters will earn you a week’s detention.”

“And you’ve learned words with more than two syllables. Color me impressed,” Ginny snarked in return.

“That’ll get you two weeks’ detention—”

“No, Goyle,” Valeria interrupted. “Weasley was asking after a book I have and I was just telling she can have it when I’m finished. We’re done here.”

“You’re going to let her get away with that? The Carrows won’t be happy—”

“I’m still Head Girl, in case you’ve forgotten so I outrank you. Weasley was just leaving and you should do the same,” Valeria said.

“Maybe. But you don’t outrank your husband or have you forgotten about the mark on his arm? Do you think he’d be happy with you if I told him you were being soft on blood traitors?” Goyle threatened.

“You can tell him whatever you like. Last time I checked, his wife outranks you in his eyes,” Valeria said shoving past Ginny and Goyle, the latter reluctantly letting her through. She turned back for a moment. “And ten points from Gryffindor for not shutting your mouth like you’re told.”

“I think it was brave,” Luna whispered in Magical Theory beside Valeria later that day.

“What?” Valeria asked.

“Neville. Detention. It can still be brave, even if it’s a secret,” Luna said. Valeria nearly slammed her fist on the table.

“It’s not a secret if you keep mentioning it, is it?” she spat.

“Maybe it’s not so bad if people know the good in us, even when we don’t want them to,” Luna said. Valeria was on the verge of saying some choice words when they were called to present. Valeria left it to Luna to introduce the project and explain her own part in it, which Valeria discovered to be a mistake as Luna listed potential uses such as _“recording and translating the communications of Fog Frogs”_ which she insisted knew deep truths about nature and the universe. Valeria explained her own part and tried to contribute practical uses, but some damage had still been done. When the time came for the demonstration, she carefully opened the box, and her own voice, reading from the magical ethics book she loaned to Draco, rang out loud and clear,

 _“As witches and wizards know, one of the founding principles of most western forms of magic is the Act of Speech. That is, words, even in the case of spells and spellcraft are not passive, nor are they simple commands or statements, rather they are themselves actions. A non-magical example would be the act of making a promise to someone. To say, ‘I promise’ is not simply to state an intention, but rather **is** to promise. The same goes for any spoken vow made; one is not just saying they are doing a deed, they **are** doing the deed. _

_This principle has many implications for the practice of magic. The incantations we utter do not simply command our wands or set our intentions, rather they are the action. As even at advanced levels of magical practice spoken incantations are still used, the importance of speech as act remains imperative. One does not speak a spell, rather one acts out the spell. It then follows, that this is of great consideration in regard to ethical matters. One does not simply cast a benevolent or malevolent spell, but acts….”_

She shut the box as her voice waned and turned to face the sparse classroom. Professor Hodgkins was impressed, judging by his polite nod as he was not especially expressive. He noted a few kinks that should be worked out, and at the end of class handed the box back to Luna to work with, reporting to her the box’s former responses to intense emotions that she discovered when practicing with Longbottom. She fled the classroom as quickly as she could without appearing suspicious, and fortunately Luna didn’t try to stop her to discuss things further.

Draco grabbed her arm gently after dinner, having been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal, though Valeria had chosen not to pry as she was too preoccupied herself to deal with his own mood swings.

“We need to talk,” he said low, almolst frightened, before guiding her along to a seluded corridor in a small window alcove.

“We shouldn’t be out like this,” she said, stretching her neck to look up and down the hallway. “If we get caught—”

“We’re Head Boy and Girl, we’ll be fine,” he said. “Goyle told me that he caught you talking to Weasley. What was that about?”

Valeria rolled her eyes. “She was being stupid. She wanted to talk to me about detention with Longbottom.”

“What about it?” he asked impatiently.

“I don’t even know. Maybe to thank me for going easy on him? It wasn’t clear what she was trying to say and then that _asshole_ came ‘round trying to give _me_ orders,” she said.

“Shit,” he cursed. “So Weasley knows about your detention, who else at this point?”

“The lot of them, I guess,” she said. “Lovegood brought it up to.” Draco’s eyes were wide with worry.

“Oh, that’s just great. How long before the Carrows find out?” he asked.

“I doubt they’re going go around blabbing about it to the Carrows of all people,” she said.

“You sure about that? When one of them gets into shit eventually you don’t think any of them would sell you out to save themselves under torture? If Goyle can see enough to get suspicious, you really think the Carrows or Snape won’t see it?” Draco ranted.

“Goyle is your friend. He’s your little follower and he’s your problem,” Valeria argued back. “As for Weasley and Lovegood, I have told them in no uncertain terms that I am not their friend. They’re the ones coming to _me_.”

“He and Crabbe answer to the Carrows, not to me. Believe me, I’ve tried. You’ve seen it,” he said.

“Are you not the one with the Dark Mark? Act like it,” she spat.

“Is that what you want?”

“What I want is for you to take some responsibility for once in your goddamn—”

“ _Take responsibility_?!” he said, yanking his left sleeve up and exposing the Dark Mark to her. “What do you think _this_ means? For you?” He paused for a beat. “It means, Val, that I am responsible for you. Everyone word you say to everyone you talk to. Every decision, every spell, every action is my responsibility. How many times do I have to make your situation clear to you before you’ll listen to me?”

She swallowed at the sight of the Dark Mark and all it stood for. “I thought it was _our_ situation.”

“Your mother’s been all but banished. Your father and brother died for _you_ at the Ministry and everyone knows it. You’ve spent months hanging around enemies and blood traitors before you came to the Manor. You are not out of the woods just because you’re married to me and if you fuck up, it falls on mine and my parents’ heads,” he said.

“Am I not your family too now?”

“That’s exactly my point,” he said. “You need to work with me here or I’ll have to...I won’t hurt you, you know that, but if it comes to keeping you alive, keeping us all alive, I’ll do whatever I have to do and you promised me you’d the same. We can’t afford any doubt as to whose side your’re on—”

“And haven’t I done enough to prove that I’m on your side?”

“To me, yes,” he said, covering the Dark Mark back up. “Now you have to prove it to the rest of them, for the rest of our lives. So start acting like it.”

She glared into his gray eyes with seething resentment, unable to find the words he deserved to hear or perhaps was too unable to say them herself. Without a word, she stormed off, even while he called after her and shut herself away in the girls’ dormitory. She intended to stay there the entire evening until the girls filled the room as the night dragged on, their voices filling the room with idle gossip that she once would have participated in, but was far too world weary to do now. She grabbed some schoolwork to at least appear busy with and made her way back down to the common room, dwindling in occupancy. Draco was, fortunately, nowhere to be seen, at least for an hour or so.

“I forgot. These arrived this morning.”

She looked up to see Draco, avoiding her eyes, and holding out to her a short stack of parchment documents. She took them without a word and unfurled the one on top.

_Contract for the Transfer of Assets and Properties_

The pages were filled with writing that she didn’t bother to read, knowing it would be a list of her personal assets interspersed with legal jargon. She didn’t have to read it to know what it was. She skipped to the final sheet of parchment bearing the signature lines.

 _By signing on the denoted lines below, both parties acknowledge, in full possession of their respective faculties and senses, that they have read and agree to the terms and conditions as have been formerly explained. Each party, being of full legal age and authority, consents to the terms as listed above for the transference of the Winters estate, specifically the assets bestowed upon Mrs. Valeria Malfoy (nee Winters), to the Malfoy estate, therefore sharing these in full legal equity, with Mr. Draco Malfoy._

Valeria, having noticed Draco’s elegant scrawl already signed on his respective line, dipped her quill in ink and haphazardly scribbled her own name on her line along with the date. She blew it dry and folded the page back up with the others. She held it out to Draco without looking at him and he gently took it from her.

“You don’t want to read it at all?” he asked.

“Did you?” she asked. He nodded. “Then I trust everything’s in order. I don’t think me reading it will make a difference anyway. Just get them returned and get it over with.”

“They’re your assets, Val,” he said.

“Looks like they’re your _responsibility_ now. Enjoy. Do with them what you will,” she said, returning to your schoolwork.

“Don’t be like this,” he said, pinching the skin between his brows.

“Like what? Cooperative? Doing what I’m told? Isn’t that what you just told me you wanted?”

“There’s a difference between wanting to do something and having to…”

“Yes, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” she said spitefully.

“That’s not fair,” he said. She slammed her hand on the table before her.

“None of this is fair, Draco. And it doesn’t matter,” she said. He took a step towards her and tossed the documents on the table before sitting down on the sofa beside her.

“It matters to me, even if there’s nothing I can do about it,” he said. “I’m sorry for how I handled…how I handled everything. I’m just trying to keep us on the same page. We can’t afford to let this fall apart. I think you know that.”

“If you think that my first priority hasn’t been us this entire time, then it’s already fallen apart,” she said.

“I still mean what I said. You’re the only thing that matters to me, alright? You’ll probably get away with the Longbottom thing, but we both have to be more careful if we’re going to come to out of this war with any sort of higher position, which we’ll need to survive,” he said.

She was still angry at him, her pride gravely injured, but he was right in a way she hadn’t quite considered fully. The Malfoys were the lowest of the low, even amongst the higher ranks, at the moment. Things would only get worse for them if she and Draco didn’t find a way to come out ahead, especially since they were looking ahead to the rest of their lives like this.

“I told Weasley and Longbottom that I wouldn’t help them and that his detention was the most I’d ever be able to do. To be honest, I just didn’t want to do it, Longbottom or not,” she confessed. Draco carefully placed a sympathetic hand on her knee.

“I know. I don’t like it either, but you must if you have to,” he said.

“I know.”

It was almost like they were too exhausted, perhaps fearful even, to stay angry with each other too long as over the next few days Draco and Valeria drifted back into their usual routine, primarily sticking by each other’s side as much as possible. It proved to be wiser than Valeria predicted seeing as how the student resisters, if they could even be called that, were ramping up their disruption. Finnegan had several outbursts in Muggle Studies, unhappy with Alecto’s lesson on how muggleborns were an abomination to be purged from the wizarding world. He could barely open his swollen eyes after disciplinary action was taken, but was still forced to go to class against Pomfrey’s wishes and advice.

Zabini, having actually done his prefect duties without nonchalance for once, caught Longbottom sneaking a third year out of solitary confinement, which resulted in confessing to the entire school in a humiliating display over breakfast one morning. Ginny had to spend another evening in the woods with the Patil twins under Hagrid’s supervision after they had failed to do an essay for Dark Arts on “ _noble uses of the Killing Curse_.” The only advantage, from Valeria’s perspective, was that the Carrows, along with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, likely would no longer care about how easy she had been on Longbottom, even if they were to find out.

Draco, to his credit, was much better at tuning it all out by now. He kept his head down for the most part, spoke with no inflection in his voice to faculty and while certain things he saw obviously pained him, he almost never reacted. For once, Valeria followed his lead and it all became easier to deal with once she had such single-minded focus. 

“I wanted to show you,” Draco said, taking a thin silver chain out of his pocket on their way to Dark Arts. “I did this the other night after you went to bed.”

“Did what exactly?” she said, examining the ordinary chain.

“I made it for Alchemy. Transmuted it from iron, actually,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice.

“So the book helped?” she asked.

“Seems like,” he said. “It gets my head all mixed up, but something must have gone right. About time too. I was starting to get nervous about it.”

“That’s great. Good job,” she said, handing it back to him.

“You keep it. I already got the marks for it. I know it’s not like your other jewelry, but I want you to have it,” he said.

She smiled. “I don’t think you’ve ever given me something of your own making before.”

“First time for everything,” he said as they took their seats in Dark Arts.

“Well, thank you. I’ll find a use for it, I promise,” she said, putting it around her neck and tucking it into her robes. He smiled a little, the most she’d seen in days. Any amount of cheer, small and fleeting as it was, dissipated from the room when Professor Amycus Carrow entered from the back of the room, ordering a group of younger students of varying years to march to the front of the room. Draco immediately tensed as the students formed a line.

“Reviewing your previous instruction on the subject of, so-called, Unforgivable Curses, I was horrified to find all the lies you’ve told over the years. Given the various unfortunate incidents that have taken place these past few weeks, it seems high time for you all to learn their true nature and power. These are the most important tools in your Dark Arts arsenal. Don’t worry, they are nothing be afraid of, which is why we’ll start off strong today,” Carrow began. “Who can tell me the most important facet of a successful Cruciatus Curse. Yes, Goyle.”

“You have to mean it!” Goyle shouted from the back, having shot his hand up eagerly to answer the question.

“Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin,” Carrow said. Slytherin’s hourglass was practically overflowing already by this point in the year, it was almost comical. “One must want to cause pain. It can be for any reason, of course, that hardly matters, but you need to feel it deep in your guts. Out of curiosity, has anyone among you successfully cast the Cruciatus Curse?”

Crabbe and Goyle’s hands shot up proudly while Draco raised his almost absentmindedly. Valeria, remembering Jane Masters, raised hers slowly amongst a few others, namely in Slytherin. She caught some of the younger students up front looking at her with eyes full of fear, some nearly in tears.

“Yes, I didn’t think so. How about we give someone an opportunity to try. Longbottom, how about you? Seems almost poetic for you to give it a go,” Carrow said. Valeria turned to Neville who slowly stood, expecting him to be crippled with fear, but to her surprise he stood strong and resolute.

“No,” Longbottom said, almost shrugging. Some in the class whispered as Carrow looked at him in rage.

“Pardon?”

“I won’t do it,” Longbottom said. Valeria’s heart began to race and Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat beside her. All she wanted was for Longbottom to do it and get it over with. All he would accomplish is making it worse for everyone.

“Come forward, Longbottom,” Carrow ordered, eyes burning. Longbottom obeyed proudly, head held by, and Valeria could not bear to look him in the eye.

“Seems Longbottom here needs to be taught a lesson more than the others,” Carrow said, quickly disarming Longbottom. “Malfoy, stand up.” Draco’s breath hitched, only loud enough for Valeria to hear and she squeezed his hand gently under the table just before he slowly rose to a stand. Carrow laughed.

“My apologies, I should have known that would cause confusion,” Carrow chuckled. “I meant _Mrs._ Malfoy.” Valeria’s heart sank, not naïve enough to believe this would end well. She could feel the stares of the classroom burning through the back of her head.

“Sir, with all due respect, I’ve had more practice than her. I should be the one to demonstrate—” Draco attempted to argue.

“All the more reason for her to have a go at it and get more practice, Malfoy,” Carrow replied. “I’ve seen her abilities first hand; Do you not have the same confidence in your own wife’s talents?”

“No, sir, it’s just—” Draco started.

“Come forward, Mrs. Malfoy. Stand right in front of Longbottom, don’t be shy,” Carrow ordered. Valeria obeyed, gripping her wand as she stood in the center aisle of the classroom, Longbottom’s stare weakening her resolve the longer he looked. Carrow approached her.

“Now, Mrs. Malfoy is in a unique position amongst you all, having been both caster and on the receiving end of this curse, isn’t that correct?” Carrow asked. Valeria nodded. While the pain left her body immediately when the curse broke that night in the Astronomy Tower that pain…the feeling of being flayed and burned alive from the inside out, never left her memory or her frequent nightmares. “So she above all will understand what the curse means. Now we must remember that one needs to _intend_ , even want, to cause pain, so I’ll ask you Mrs. Malfoy was Longbottom one of the students who abducted you and held you hostage during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries?” Carrow continued.

“He was,” Valeria answered, looking Longbottom in the eyes.

“The same event in which your brave father and brother were killed?” Carrow asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then could it be argued that Longbottom had a direct hand in their deaths?”

“Yes,” Valeria lied. She was still angry about those events, somewhere deep down, the event that tore the life she knew to tatters and shreds, but she could not say that Longbottom had a direct hand in it with any real honesty or rationale. Her father was crushed, yes, but not by Longbottom’s doing and Konstantin was slain by Bellatrix Lestrange.

But she could not employ reason where the unreasonable was demanded of her. The curse did not care about reason, only intention, only cruelty. Longbottom, for now, had to be the villain in her eyes. She could sense Carrow’s smirking.

“And he then has the audacity to sully their legacy by tearing apart their images on the Hall of Fallen Heroes! It seems Mrs. Malfoy has every reason to want to see Longbottom suffer,” Carrow said. Perhaps he was right, in a way. The sloppiness of Longbottom’s actions, his refusal to fall in line and by extension nearly cause problems for her position did anger her. Longbottom followed Potter, who had a direct hand in the destruction of her family and the besmirching of her pristine reputation, which, in some roundabout way, lead her and Draco to be a child bride and groom. They had taken her security, her name, her power, her home and landed her in the position of being a Death Eater’s wife for as long as she managed to survive.

“Have some of your well-deserved vengeance, Mrs. Malfoy. Show Longbottom the consequences,” Carrow said, stepping back. Valeria dutifully pointed her wand at Longbottom who looked frightened, but unsurprised. She had warned him, after all, that he and his lot could expect no mercy from her if she was called upon. She could only attempt to convince herself that this fact absolved her, knowing full well that the resisters were too stubborn, too merciless themselves to bear sympathy to her plight.

“Make your choice, Winters,” Longbottom said with a haunting tone and an unyielding gaze. She knew the story of Lestrange’s crimes against his parents. Valeria knew exactly what she was doing. She summoned within herself the rage she needed to perform, as a play-actor would call upon their own life to perform another’s on stage; _Konstantin might be alive if not for them, My father might still live if not for them, my home, my family, Draco…_

“It’s Mrs. Malfoy. _Crucio_ ,” she said through her teeth.

Immediately, Longbottom’s stubborn courage left him and he fell with a great thud to the floor, prompting gasps and whimpers of the younger students behind him, some of whom burst into tears.

“Don’t look away!” Carrow ordered of the students.

Valeria maintained her concentration, hardly hearing the noises around her. Her wand unwaveringly aimed at Longbottom, binding him to the curse. Longbottom screamed, shrieked, and twisted his body in unnatural shapes without any conscious control of his limbs. His head thrashed from side to side, but once he caught her eyes, his own bloodshot and bulging from pain, Valeria could see Jane Masters in her mind’s eye and then her brother, and then Draco nearly in tears atop the Astronomy Tower.

“Keep at it, Malfoy!” Carrow encouraged.

Valeria did not relent, feeling her moral resolve whither with each passing moment. She felt powerful, strong, unstoppable. It was, to her later shame, a little intoxicating. She had been so powerless for so long that to have a little, even horrific, even under duress, was seductive. Longbottom was sputtering, spit erupting through his teeth every so often and breaking out in a sweat. Mucus streamed out from his nostrils as he gasped for air.

“Make sure he learns his lesson!” Carrow happily shouted.

She could hear laughing behind her, some shouting too; no doubt Longbottom’s compatriots protesting his treatment. Some of the younger students were crying, nearly weeping, but she hardly registered their sounds. She could only hear Longbottom’s screams, his unending tormented agony at her hand.

“Aaaaand, release,” Carrow said calmly, close to Valeria. His tone was almost serene in the chaos that had erupted in the room. Valeria obeyed immediately and with that silence fell in the room. Longbottom regained his composure, gasping in relief, but trembling still from the body-memory of the pain that she knew all too well. The silence was broken by Carrow’s applause, followed by a small amount of clapping from her peers, some legititmate and some too afraid not to.

“Excellent work, Mrs. Malfoy! Twenty points to Slytherin,” Carrow said proudly. “How’d that feel?”

“Good. Powerful…Almost satisfying,” Valeria lied, trying not to tremble herself, looking at Longbottom’s pathetic body, trying to feel nothing.

“Indeed,” Carrow said. “Mrs. Malfoy makes a fine point. Remember, it is not only to punish your enemies or a tool for getting information. The curse is one of your best tools to establish power and fill you with the inner strength needed to be young champions for the Dark Lord. It’s not just for them, but equally for you. Have a seat, Mrs. Malfoy, excellent work.”

Valeria looked at Draco, his expression wild with distress. He _had_ done this more than her. She remembered vividly the nights when they shared a bed in Malfoy Manor when he would mutter and roll around in his sleep. She remembered his frenzied gaze after he tortured his own comrades on the Dark Lord’s orders and the shame of making him relive it again forced her to look away from him. She wanted to breakdown again, to find a dark hole to hide in, but there was no way to do so without endangering herself. Draco gripped her leg firmly when she sat down beside him, and she did not reciprocate for fear of showing weakness, but she could feel what he meant in his grasp.

She surprised herself with how easily she did not fall apart. Her parents’ training on maintaining perfect composure was serving her well, numbing any sense of guilt or compassion so as to march on with the rest of her day. It was still hanging by a thread. Word had spread entirely too quickly and other students outside of her house would barely look at her. McGonagall even looked at her with a sad disappointment, though she had no malice. The same could not be said for Longbottom’s friends who stared daggers at the Slytherin table over dinner.

Falling apart was inevitable, but she held it off until she and Draco were alone in an abandoned dungeon classroom at the start of their patrol, it being Draco’s insistence. He kicked over an old desk and yelled out in rage as soon as the door was firmly locked behind them. Valeria wasn’t even startled. He composed himself after pulling his fingers through his hair and reached for her, pulling her into him with enough force that she collided with his chest and at once began to sob.

Draco held her tighter, his hand buried in her hair, cradling her head as if her were making her a desperate, barely protective, crown. It was all he could do, so little and yet it was everything he had.

“I’ve got you…I’ve got you…” he said quietly as she wept. “You did what you had to do. Longbottom will be fine, you already warned him about exactly what would happen. Look at me.” He stepped back and cupped her face in his hands to look down at her. “You didn’t have a choice. By any means necessary, remember?”

“Does it get easier?” she asked weakly. He knew exactly what she meant and he desperately wanted to lie, but looking at her, he could not bring himself to do it. Regretfully, he shook his head.

“No.”


	20. The Good Slytherin: The Choice of Konstantin Winters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of filler. This chapter can be skipped, if so desired. Mild intimacy content and mild magical violence ahead.

_"Do you think he'd still love me, for all I've done?" she asked tearfully._

_"There's nothing you could have done to lessen his love for you," he replied, gently and honestly._

_*****_

It had not been Konstantin’s choice to meet so far from the dungeons, but it was his patrol shift and being Head Boy, he could afford to disregard more rules than Jane could. She was getting bolder herself, having arranged this meeting without him strategizing how to go about it and keeping their schedule to the minute. He smiled a little to himself at the thought of his nature rubbing off on her a little bit.

“…And this is my little sister,” he said, handing her the next photograph. It had been her idea too. She wanted more, he knew, to know him and his world more deeply, but all he could give her were the pictures.

“Oh, isn’t she adorable,” Jane said, taking the picture of the young girl standing at the side of a large lilac tree in the courtyard of the Winters’ Welsh valley home. “I didn’t know lilacs grew in the mountains.”

“They don’t. I enchanted it myself. Huge pain in the ass, but worth it. They’re her favorite,” he said.

“You’re a good big brother,” Jane said romantically.

He laughed a little. “She can be a real brat sometimes, can always get what she wants and knows it too, but she’s a good kid.”

“She’s going to be quite a show-stopper someday, look at that smile,” Jane said.

“She’s going to be a ball-buster, that’s certain, but I’m glad for that,” Konstantin replied.

“I’d love to meet her someday,” Jane said. Konstantin smiled as his heart sank into oblivion and a wave of anxiety surged through him.

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Someday,” he said, noncommittally. Jane was not stupid enough to buy into his non-answer.

“My parents want to meet you,” she said. “I’ve told them all about you.”

“I thought we agreed to keep it secret,” he said with a sigh. 

“And who are they going to tell, the Prime Minister? They’re just muggle accountants, it doesn’t matter if they know,” Jane argued.

“I know, it’s just that…I want them to think well of me and I…I don’t know,” he said. He was selfish and he knew it. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted to have Jane forever, but was too cowardly to tell her his dark secrets. He knew full well who his parents were and what would happen to him if they found out.

“My mum thinks you’re really handsome,” Jane said with a smirk. “And my dad likes that you do sports, even if he doesn’t understand Quidditch. They already love you, and I was sure to tell them that you’re nothing but a perfect gentleman.”

He raised a suggestive eyebrow and put his hand on her thigh. “So you lied?”

“Don’t you worry,” Jane teased. “Everyone and their mother still believes you are the pinnacle of the perfect young man. Your secrets otherwise are safe with me.” Jane had to admit, landing Konstantin Winters, even if it was just their secret, filled her with confidence. He was, hands down, the most handsome boy in the school. A little smile of his could charm a troll into submission and his tall, athletic frame had every girl swooning for him. She knew just how many of the older girls had crushes on him and he never said an unkind word against them, but Jane felt safe knowing that at night, alone, he was all hers. She could only imagine the envy she would receive from the Slytherin girls in their year if they knew. Hell, she even overheard them speak jealously of the length of his eyelashes, and his thick brown hair that seemed to style itself.

Even the boys were jealous. She often overheard her Quidditch teammates ranting about the “Slytherin Pretty Boy,” whose face never had a blemish even in the hellish pubescent years. It was almost too good, how uncannily handsome he was, even as a teenager. Mainly, her male teammates disliked him for allowing Slytherin to play dirty and while she too chastised him for it, it was hard to stay mad at him when he flashed her a smirk and said, _“Winning is winning, Masters.”_

He leaned in to kiss her deeply. She again could not understand what he saw in her, regarding herself as a bit plain, but he loved her for it. The way her eyes shone when she talked about what she loved, the way she was mesmerized still by magic he considered mundane. Her intellect commanded his respect and her soft, light-brown hair had hints of gold and red throughout. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever met.

They lost themselves to each other once more, as was their common practice. He could hardly resist temptation. He had never felt freer than when he was with her and he craved it, needed it, like some plague of addiction. His father didn’t matter. His name didn’t matter. Only they mattered. They had had each other already, a few times though not often, shut away in dark quiet parts of the castle. He blushed to think of it, but he couldn’t imagine they were the first young lovers to do so in the long history of Hogwarts.

“We should run off together this summer,” he whispered, breaking the kiss.

“I have my internship at Nimbus,” she laughed. “And you have tryouts. You can’t miss them.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “There are other broom companies. I can defer the tryouts. I just want it to be like this forever.”

She pulled him and kissed him again. He snaked his hands under her shirt. They could afford one more tryst before the Easter recess, surely.

“Mr. Winters!”

They hadn’t noticed the door swing open and Konstantin nearly flung himself away from Jane, his heart skipping beats as he turned to see Professor McGonagall entering the room and lighting the wall sconces with her wand.

“Filch had mentioned he thought he saw you out of bed, Miss Masters,” McGonagall said. “To my office now, both of you.”

Without a word, they followed her out. Fortunately, it was late enough that there weren’t any other students wandering the corridors to see, but he still kept his head bowed in shame, refusing Jane’s hand out of impulse when she reached for him as they followed behind McGonagall. He was kicking himself mentally. If some prefect had caught them, he could have easily talked his way out of it, but his authority ended with faculty. He was on the verge of full out panic when he sat beside Jane before McGonagall’s desk.

“I don’t know how long this has been going on, but sneaking around the castle, violating your patrol, after hours is unacceptable. You both have good clean records, but I am especially disappointed in you Mr. Winters. As Head Boy, you should know your responsibility as a role model to all the other students. Taking advantage of your position is in complete violation of your role,” McGonagall ranted. “And Miss Masters, you should know better too, being captain of the Ravenclaw team and a representative of your house. You will both receive detention and I will also have to write home to your parents about this.”

Konstantin nearly leapt from his seat and leaned over on McGonagall’s desk.

“I mean no disrespect, ma’am, but Professor Snape is my head of house and Flitwick, Jane’s. Should they not be the ones to determine proper action?” Konstantin said. He could talk to Snape. Snape would understand.

“An astute observation, but this is a very clear school policy that does not require their consultation, though I’ll be sure they are quickly informed. As you both have clean records, I advise you to be grateful that I’m not being harsher,” McGonagall said.

“I’ll take a month’s detention,” Konstantin objected, panicking.

“Pardon?” McGonagall asked.

“Konstantin, what’re you—?” Jane said.

“I’ll have detention for the rest of the year. Just don’t write my parents. I think that’s more than fair,” he argued adamantly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winters, but you should have thought of that before your…rendezvous with Miss Masters. Rules are rules. As Head Boy, you should know this,” McGonagall said.

“Please, ma’am. I will take any punishment you deem fit over this. Anything—” he pleaded.

“This is my final decision. You’re dismissed. Straight to bed, both of you,” McGonagall ordered.

Konstantin, enraged and fearful, like an animal backed into a corner marched to the door and threw it open as he left. Jane called after him, but he didn’t look back. He was a selfish coward and he could not bring himself to do look at her.

Sitting in his father’s study, the first night home for the Easter recess made him feel like a child being scolded by a teacher. Even sitting behind his desk, Hieronymus seemed to loom over his son, stern-faced; The only face Konstantin could never get a read on, save for is mother, who stood by her husband with her arms folded.

“Do you not understand the gravity of what you’ve done?” Hieronymus asked after a lengthy silence.

“I don’t think I’m the first one to ever snog a girl after-hours,” Konstantin said.

“You know damn well what I mean,” Hieronymus said, his voice low and gravely, sending a chill through Konstantin. “As soon as you told me her name, I searched after the girl. Imagine my surprise when I found no record of her heritage and Nottington over at the Ministry informed me that she’s a mudblood, according to her school records.”

“It’s just a school relationship,” Konstantin said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t lie,” his father said. “And to think how proud we were of you; Captain of the Quidditch team, Head Boy, perfect marks. You disrespect me and your mother, your very name, behind closed doors like some uncultured filth. Do you care about this family?”

“Of course, I do,” Konstantin said.

“I don’t know if you do. If you did, you’d understand that as our eldest son you have a responsibility to uphold our legacy, one that has remained pure and untarnished in the wizarding world for centuries. We trained you for this, given you nothing to ever want for, invested our time and energy in shaping you into who you are and you have the audacity to throw it all away for a mudblood! You should be groveling, grateful that I am more lenient than the Black family. You remember what happened to Andromeda Black, don’t you?” Hieronymus ranted. Konstantin nodded. That name was not often spoken in their circles. “You have one more chance. This ends now. You will never speak to that girl again after you end it with her. You won’t look her way or spare her a kind word if anyone asks you. If you fail, we will have no choice but to disown you as our son, at least, until you see the error of your ways.”

“Do you care for the girl, Konstantin?” Odessa asked. Konstantin looked up at his mother, who he knew, heartbroken, he could not count on for defense. She looked down her nose at him, her head tilted.

“That hardly matters, Odessa,” Hieronymus said.

“Not beyond a school fling,” he said, blushing, though the amount of glamours his mother had taught him to use shielded the color of his skin.

“Then it should be easy to let her go,” Odessa said. “We will write this off then as a youthfully misguided indiscretion. No one needs to know and your reputation is safe.”

“You’ll write home as soon as it’s done. And if we hear otherwise—” Hieronymus said.

“I understand,” Konstantin said, just wanting this to be over.

“There’s more,” Hieronymus said. “While at the Ministry, I ran into Bathsheba Garrett, you remember her from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, who was gushing about your upcoming professional league tryouts. I’m sure you can imagine the uncomfortable conversation we had when I informed her that I hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about.”

Konstantin’s heart sank and broke all at once. He knew what was next and nearly teared up. His one ticket out, his one deepest secret he kept from his family, turned to dust in his hands.

“I—I’m sorr—” he began.

“You _humiliated_ me in the Ministry!” Hieronymus yelled, slamming is fist on the desk. “How does it look when a father doesn’t know his own son’s post-school plans?! What do you think that makes people think of our household?!”

“I—I don’t—”

“You _do_ know. Do not play the fool with me, Konstantin. You will cancel all your scheduled tryouts. This nonsense ends now.” Hieronymus said, summoning writing materials with his wand.

“Please, please let me just try out. I just wanted to see if I _could_ do it—”

“I will tell you now that you can’t. You are a Winters and we don’t spend our adult lives playing games,” Hieronymus said.

“But you told me to go out for Quidditch at Hogwarts!” Konstantin protested. “You bought me my first broom. You _wanted_ me to play!”

“In order to make a good place for yourself at school! Not to pursue as your career, if you could even call it that!”

“Please, father…It’s the only thing I want,” Konstantin begged.

“You also want to keep your name and all the privileges it affords, don’t you? That is what’s at stake if you refuse. I’ve already made some inquiries at the Ministry, and there are several departments that would agree to bring you on starting after you graduate. You have the respect the Winters name commands to thank for that,” Hieronymus said.

“You should thank your father, Konstantin,” Odessa said. “I’m sure many of your classmates would weep with gratitude at even half the chances you have.” Hieronymus tapped his finger on the parchment before his son.

“Cancel them all. Now.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Jane complained to Tonks, taking in the air on the grounds one afternoon shortly after the Easter recess. “He didn’t respond to any of my letters and he hasn’t said a word to me since we got back.”

“The Winters are an odd bunch,” Tonks said, trying to be diplomatic. “They really only care about saving face, always have. I’m sure he got a hell of a lecture for getting caught.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he won’t talk to me. I mean, my parents yelled at me too and then they got over it. It’s not a big deal,” Jane argued.

“Maybe he’s just being careful, or worried about his tryouts or exams or something. Boys are always so hot-and-cold anyway. There’s no hope for them, really,” Tonks said with a nervous laugh. “And the Winters…I haven’t met them, but from what my mum’s told me they’re a lot stricter about things, especially in those uppity-arse pureblood circles…”

“I’ve already told you, he’s not like that,” Jane insisted.

“How can you be sure?” Tonks asked.

“Ladies.”

The girls both turned to see Konstantin wearing a grim expression standing behind them. Jane stood to her feet.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something,” Konstantin said in a cold, but polite tone that sounded almost mechanical.

“No, not at all. How are you?” Jane asked, stepping towards him.

“I’m well, thank you,” he said, taking a half step back. “I was wondering if you had a minute to talk privately.”

“Of course,” Jane said, picking up her things, elated. “I’ll see you later, Tonks.”

Tonks watched them with a sad suspicion as they walked back to the castle together until they disappeared inside. Konstantin found an empty classroom and made sure the door was firmly, magically, locked behind him. As he turned around, Jane flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek. He resisted the urge to reciprocate the embrace.

“You had me so worried. Why didn’t you write to me? Why didn’t you talk to me at all? What’s going on?” Jane interrogated.

Konstantin swallowed, looking into her worried, perhaps even a bit angry though innocent, eyes and had to look away. He would not be able to do this if he looked at her. He could not destroy them both like this with any honor. He was a coward.

“It’s over, Jane,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean? What’s over?” she asked.

“This. Us. It’s done. We can’t do this anymore,” he said.

“Just because we got caught snogging?! That’s stupid!”

“I have to focus on other things. I can’t be distracted.”

“Is that all I am?! A _distraction_.”

He thought for a moment and spoke feeling as though his heart was being sawed in two. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Konstantin, if this is about your family, you don’t need them. You can stay with my family over the summer for a while if you need. You don’t have to listen to them if they’re this psychotic—”

“Don’t talk about my family. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

“I know that you don’t want this. You can get out, I can help you if you let me!” she yelled.

“It’s not that simple. And I don’t need your permission to end this. It’s over. Move on,” he said, turning to leave. She rushed to him and grabbed his arm to stop him, but he pulled himself from her grasp and spun on his heal. He didn’t understand what came over him next, but he knew he had to do it, otherwise she would never stop. It was for her own good in the end.

“Don’t _ever_ touch me, _mudblood_ ,” he spat. Taken aback and in tears, she stood still as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Konstantin…”

He turned, heart skipping a beat. He knew that voice. The one that so often had eased his stress, that his heart once leapt in excitement to hear. He turned, a poised smile plastered on his face and saw her. It had been years, so many years. He was nearly taken aback by how beautiful she was. She held herself proudly, her light-brown hair hanging down and he remembered the nights he buried his hands in it. She had a woman’s face now, her cheekbones high and her chin soft.

“Miss Masters,” he greeted with a polite nod of his head. “I should have expected to run into you here.” He kicked himself. That was a stupid thing to say. Of course, he would have seen her at the Quidditch World Cup. She was doing well at Nimbus. It only made sense, but his denial overcame him.

“Likewise,” she said. She was just as uncomfortable as him, it seemed. There were words at the tip of her tongue that she dared not say. “You look well. Have hardly aged a day.” He smiled. He got that a lot from old school fellows. He had a young man’s face even as a teenager. He never told her, anyone, about the glamours.

“You look…exactly how I imagined you’d look,” he said, kicking himself again for how stupid he sounded. He was not used to being uneasy in social situations. This must have been the feeling his shyer friends always talked about.

“It’s funny. I always imagined you out there,” she said gesturing lazily towards the stadium. He smiled, trying to hide his grief. The wound of his lost Quidditch career never healed in him. He had religiously gone to each World Cup, each match he could, never able to fully enjoy it due to the jealousy he felt towards the players on the pitch. Yet, he insisted on attending regardless. He still flew on his broom to travel whenever it was sensible just to feel the high of it again.

He mustered a small laugh. “At one time, I would have too. Though my other talents are more useful and better directed elsewhere.”

“Right. You’re happy though?” she asked pointedly.

“Never better,” he lied.

“Good. I’m glad. I’m sure you’re busy, but if you have a moment, you should stop by my tent later—”

“I’m not sure I’ll have the time,” he said.

“Just for a minute. It won’t take long. I’m over by the Nimbus group. You’ll find me easily. Consider it, at least.”

“Sure, I can do that,” he replied hesitantly.

“Good. Be seeing you?”

“Be seeing you.”

She turned away and strutted off and he was consumed with fear and guilt. He knew what was soon to happen. He knew he would soon march beside his father in the name of the Dark Lord.

Konstantin was in his room a year later, waiting for as long as he could. He held the photograph in his left hand, studying it as he often did. One of the few pieces of evidence he had ever loved Jane; One of the few pieces of evidence of the happiest he had ever been. Jane was still a rising star over at Nimbus. If he did see her again, what would he say? That he bought every broom she worked on like some kind of pathetic sod? That he still thought about her on every date he went on with women that would please his parents?

That he was about to bear the Dark Mark?

He lifted the sleeve on his left forearm, his skin still bare for now. Pure and unsullied, unlike him. He looked to his broom and to the window. He could make a daring escape. But now that the Dark Lord had made this offer to him, there was no refusal. What would happen to his parents? To Valeria?

He tucked the photograph away and pulled the letter out from the back of another picture frame. He had never opened it after she gave it to him at the World Cup. He was too much of a coward, afraid of ink marks on parchment. He liked the fantasy of what he wanted it to say. An outpouring of loving words, perhaps even forgiveness that he did not deserve.

But it was now or never. With shaking fingers, he broke the letter’s seal.

 _Konstantin,_

_I’m not old, but I feel older. I’m not so naïve as I once was. I understand why you did it, though I can’t pretend I haven’t been angry at you for it. I don’t know if we would have made it. I don’t know if our silly schoolyard half-promises would have ever panned out properly or according to plan. It might have fallen apart in a matter of days for all we know._

_I don’t claim to know you anymore, though I felt that I did the instant I saw you. I haven’t much to write, I admit, but I want to write to you._

_If you would have chosen elsewise, you would have seen me learn and grow. You would have cheered with me when I was offered a permanent position at Nimbus. You would have comforted me at my grandfather’s funeral. You would have brushed my hair from my face after a long day. You would have seen my confidence break and reform again. I know my worth. I know who I am. I have much to give and I would have given it to you._

_I know your worth too, even still, even though I long to forget it for my own sake. I’m sorry you couldn’t see what was in front of you in spite of the weight on your shoulders. I’m sorry you couldn’t fight it. I’m sorry I didn’t know you well enough to realize. But I know you well enough to remember you as I loved you._

_I remember the boy with the adventurous heart. The sight for all sore eyes. I remember the way your hair blew back in the wind on your room, how you smiled so broad, radiant, that I thought bugs would get stuck in your teeth. Your contagious laughter, your infectious lightness of heart. That boy, who I saw die the day he walked away from me, lives on still in my memories, Konstantin._

_My offer from that day still stands. You have time. The world is as much at your feet as it was then. The future you left behind is there, if only you would turn around and give it time. I don’t claim to know you, if I ever did, but I’d forgive you for the chance to try to._

_Even so, I’ll always remember the boy with a soul as light as mountain air and the infinitely loving heart._

_Yours, in some way, forever,_

_Janey_

He hadn’t cried in years.

Through his tears, he looked at the window and his broomstick again. It was now or it was never. He folded it up carefully, and placed the letter in his pockets. He grabbed his broom, prepared to make the long journey from Wales to the south of England without more than a travelling cloak. He did not want this. It might have been too late for him, but he had to try.

He was startled by a knock on the door. His father surely. Was it time already? He panicked. He shoved the window wide open, big enough for him to fit out. He would jump, but he was quick enough to mount his broom and stop his fall, he knew. The door flew open before he took a step and he turned, prepared still to make a run for it if needed.

Valeria.

And at once, the window became impenetrable. Should he dare to fly, he knew what would happen to his little sister. The Winters’s legacy, the responsibility, the expectations to further the Dark Lord’s cause would be thrust upon her.

And so, the young man with the mournful heart chose cruelty, pain and longing in exchange for his own liberation. Once and for all.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a sassy little laugh, unaware. He set his broom down and straightened himself out.

“You should be in bed,” he said.

“Can’t sleep. I’m looking for a book and it’s not in the library or father’s study. Do you have it?” she asked. He marveled at her, so unaware, so naïve, of what was happening. But he had promised himself not to tell her. He ruined himself to keep Jane out of things, to keep them apart, and if he had to fight tooth and nail to keep Valeria from succumbing to his fate, he would. Family mattered to him now, her safety taking precedent over all. Only one of them becoming a Death Eater would be enough. For now.

“Would help to know the name,” he said with a sigh.

“ _The Magical Plays of Abelard Adelsworth_ ,” Valeria said.

“Ah, I think I have it. Let me look for it quick,” he said. He rummaged around his desk for the book in question carelessly. Valeria must have noticed he was out of sorts.

“You alright? Seem jumpy,” she said. Now a teenager with a keen intuition about other people, he imagined that, in a way, none knew him so well as her. Being raised in the same manner, by the same parents, it seemed only she could tell when something was amiss with him. At least she had stopped using her intuition to aggravate him, as she did when she was younger.

“Yeah, just, father and I have an urgent appointment tonight and we can’t be late,” he said.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said.

“Ministry stuff. Father’s been helping. We’ll resolve it by morning. Nothing to worry about,” he said.

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Here’s the book,” he said, having found it buried under papers. “Might I recommend _The Tragedy of the Prince of Fel Threyn_? It’s my personal favorite of the classics.”

“The one about the wizard prince?” she asked.

He nodded. “Called to kill his father’s mortal enemy, but ultimately failing to do his duty.”

“Yeah, I wanted to read something new. I’ll skip it,” she said.

“Suit yourself. I find something new I hadn’t seen before each time I read it,” he said, handing it to her. “Better go to bed.”

“Wait. Can I ask you something?”

“About what?”

“About…about boys,” she said, embarrassed. He immediately felt dread.

“Maybe mother would be better at—”

“No, it’s about _a_ boy. Draco,” she said. “Every time I tell mother about it, she tells me what ‘a fine young man he’ll be someday’ and—”

“Did he try something at that Ball?” he interjected defensively.

“No, stop interrupting!” Valeria said. “He acted like an arse at Diggory’s memorial, at school, so I told him I was done with him, but he keeps sending me these letters telling me I overreacted and that he’s sorry, but they’re not really apologies, and he’s just being a git all around.”

“Have you replied to him?” he asked.

“No. I want to avoid talking to him as long as I can,” she said.

“Good,” he said with a little laugh. It may have been wrong for a grown man to judge a teenage boy too harshly, but Konstantin had taken issue with Draco’s attitude for a while now. The boy was nosy and overeager, which gave Konstantin pause. In his mind, Valeria was better off without him. “Look, if you ask a boy, they’ll probably tell you the girls are hard to figure out, but I think the girls have it right when they say that boys are impossible to understand. They can do…really dumb things sometimes. They lack a certain kind of common sense.”

“Obviously,” she said rolling her eyes. “But what do I do about him?”

“Keep ignoring him, especially if you’re having fun riling him up,” Konstantin said, half-joking. “If he bothers you at school, tell him in no uncertain terms what you think of him. Stick to your gut and hold your head up high. The last thing you want to do is get bent out of shape over a boy.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I might write him to thank him for sending the letters. They kept my fire going and my room warm,” she said. Konstantin laughed.

“That you absolutely should do. If he gives you anymore trouble, be sure to remind him that you have an older, and dare I say, fairly influential older brother,” he said.

“Thanks, but I think I can handle Draco Malfoy, of all people,” she said.

“I think you’re right,” he said. He checked the watch his father gave him on his seventeenth birthday. “It’s almost midnight. I have to go. You need to go to bed.”

“Fine. Thanks for the book,” she said turning to stroll out of the room.

“Wait,” he said. She turned, looking at him expectantly. “Don’t compromise.”

“What?”

“With Draco,” he elaborated. “Don’t compromise anything of yourself; With him or any boy.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. ‘Night,” she said with brazen, teenage confidence, bordering on egoism. Konstantin smiled at that, admiring his little sister’s stubborn self-assuredness. He resolved to choose wrong. He resolved to fight for a cause his heart was not in, if only to protect the little lady he saw so much of his former self in.

“Before we go in, I want a word,” Hieronymus said as they approached Malfoy Manor later that evening. The Dark Lord had come specifically for this event, though Konstantin was grateful Narcissa had whisked her son away on a weekend trip far away. Konstantin stopped and turned to face his father.

“Of course, sir,” Konstantin said.

“I’m proud of you,” his father said to Konstantin’s surprise. He had bragged about his son’s accomplishments to others whenever he could, but never said it to his face as far as Konstantin could remember. “You have accepted your duties with grace and dignity. I am deeply honored to have you as my son.”

Konstantin, for once, did not know what to say. “Thank you. I hope I can make your prouder in the future.”

“You will. That I know. Taking the Dark Mark was the proudest moment of my life and I hope you feel the same.”

“I do, sir,” he lied. They were allowed in by the Malfoys' replacement house elf and greeted by Lucius in the entrance hall. Lucius and Hieronymus shared a fraternal embrace and Konstantin shook the hand of the Malfoy patriarch. Lucius was beaming with as much pride as his own father.

“It’s always a proud day for all of us to bring another into our ranks and I can think of no one worthier of the privilege,” Lucius said.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Makes me look forward to my own son taking the mark himself,” Lucius said.

“Let Konstantin have this, Lucius,” Hieronymus said, jokingly.

“Of course, this is your day after all. Come, the Dark Lord is looking forward to meeting you,” Lucius said. The Winters men obeyed and followed Lucius through the familiar halls of the Manor. Konstantin’s heart pounded harder with each step until they finally reached the dining room. Without any ado, Lucius opened the great doors and entered.

“My Lord, Hieronymus has arrived with his son, Konstantin Winters,” Lucius introduced with a bow. He stepped away and the Winters men each bowed to the Dark Lord.

“Rise,” came the high, inhuman voice of the Dark Lord. Konstantin swallowed and met the Dark Lord’s gaze only being forced to hide his disgust at Voldemort’s warped humanity. The Dark Lord stretched out his arm, seated in an ornate wooden chair like a throne, surrounded by the higher ranks of his followers, many of whom Konstantin knew well. “Come forward, young man.”

Without hesitation, Konstantin obeyed the Dark Lord who beckoned him with a sickly, bony finger. He knelt on one knee before Voldemort and looked at the floor.

“I am elated that you have chosen this path, Konstantin. Your youth brings great hope to the cause for the next generation,” the Dark Lord said.

“I will serve faithfully, my Lord,” Konstantin said.

“I have no doubt. Are you ready?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Say the vow.”

Konstantin cleared his throat and met the Dark Lord’s eyes. “I, Konstantin Silvester Winters, vow here, now and in the presence of these witnesses to dedicate my life and soul to Lord Voldemort. I will uphold his commandments, dutifully obey his orders and will live and die for the cause, if it is asked of me. This allegiance I pledge on my life and honor.”

“And who vouches for him?” the Dark Lord asked.

“I, his father,” Hieronymus said, stepping forward.

“And I, his godfather,” Lucius said.

“I accept your service, Konstantin Silvester Winters. Serve well and you will be rewarded. Your left arm, please,” the Dark Lord said extending his hand. Konstantin obeyed, nearly recoiling at the touch of the Dark Lord’s cold, dry skin. With supernatural grace the Dark Lord raised his finger and lowered it to the inside of Konstantin’s arm. “The pain shall not last, I promise.”

As soon as the tip of his finger made contact with his soft skin, Konstantin felt his whole arm burn to the bone. He could not help but cry out in excruciation as he watched cloudy ink dance from the Dark Lord’s finger and flow into position around his arm. All his muscles tensed and the Dark Lord’s grasp was like hot iron, rooting him in place. The serpentine Dark Mark began to form on his skin, irritating and raising the skin it touched like a brand.

The majority of the pain left him when the Dark Lord’s work was done, but it ached and burned still as he was released, clutching his arm and staring at the night-black mark. There was no turning back, he knew too well, but if the Dark Mark was to serve him at all, it was to be a shield he would wear for his sister. What good was left in him, was hers.

“What are we going to do?” Konstantin asked, tossing down _The Quibbler_ on his father’s desk after reading it.

“Fortunately, no one of importance believes the words of some schoolboy who’s gone mad,” Hieronymus said with a sigh. “But it’s still troubling, I admit.”

“What about Valeria?” Konstantin asked.

“I’ve already sent word to Umbridge about stopping this nonsense at Hogwarts. I’ll likely write Severus to keep an eye on her. However, I do think it’s high time we bring her into the fold, as we discussed before,” Hieronymus said.

“She’s too young,” Konstantin said.

“She’s old enough. She’s grown up in different times than you have and she could serve the cause in her own way until she’s old enough. We can at least prepare her if we tell her as soon as possible,” Hieronymus argued.

“She’s been kept in the dark her whole life. She’s not going to understand—”

“She understands who she is and what is expected of her better than you did at that age, or don’t you remember your tryst with the mudblood girl?”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s fairer than you deserved,” Hieronymus said darkly. “After we complete our mission at the Department of Mysteries, the Dark Lord will act with greater might and your sister cannot be left in the dark when that happens. Lucius’s boy is chomping at the bit, I’ve heard. There’s no reason Valeria would be any different.”

“Draco is a spoiled brat who hasn’t the faintest idea what he’s getting into. Valeria doesn’t care about this stuff, she never has! Just let her at least complete her studies in peace!” Konstantin yelled.

“Our world is about to change and she _already_ knows thanks to Harry Potter!” Hieronymus bellowed. “The time has come.”

Konstantin was shaking with fury and desperation. “At least let me be the one to do it.”

“This is about the family, so the entire family will address it.”

“Just, let me talk to her first. She’s close to my age, she trusts me. Please, father,” Konstantin begged. Hieronymus inhaled deep in consideration.

“Fine. But you will tell her the whole truth, including what is expected of her,” Hieronymus said.

“As you will.”

Konstantin kicked over his desk chair and cursed in rage. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling a little on the roots. After the business was done at the Department of Mysteries, he could take Valeria and hide her away. He’d have to return, he was a lost cause, but he had enough connections in other parts of the magical world. He could find somewhere safe for her to go. He knew all too well her heart would never be in it. She was far too good-natured for it. Her dreams were so much loftier than any of this. She would never last and he could not forgive himself in failing, yet again, to shield someone he loved from the darkness that was bound to consume him.

He rushed to his desk and prepared a piece of parchment.

 _Valeria,_

_Please take the time to read my words carefully. I am very sorry about all this. I can’t imagine your confusion, but I need you to remain calm. I will speak to you over the break and we will sort this all out._

_Konstantin_

In a hurry, he encased it in an envelope and addressed it. He prepared a second, longer peace of parchment and lingered long on what to write. All of his effort over the years to stave off the inevitable were for naught and he had never been more impotent to action. He knew well that he would choose his sister over the Dark Lord should he be called to that decision, and for that, he knew, somewhere in the core, he was running out of time. Looking at the watch his father gave him as part of his birthright, he saw it now for what it was; A murderer comprised of his own cowardly choices.

He put quill to parchment.

_Valeria,_

_It is my deepest hope that this letter never needs to reach you. However, in the event that you are reading these words, my hopes were for naught and I am dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit indulgent on my part, but this is a bit of filler. I included it for a few reasons, but mainly there are some plot parallels I wanted to highlight. Thank you all for bearing with me and all the comments and kudos. They're all lovely and encouraging. Stay safe, everyone.


	21. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also want to note that I am heartily against JK Rowling's recent comments about trans people. Trans and non-binary folks are welcome and safe here, along with everyone else in the LGBTQ+ community. 
> 
> Mild intimacy warning. Warning for suicidal thoughts. Non-magical violence and graphic magical violence ahead. (Also am updating the overall tags on this story.)

_"Perhaps we deserve this," she said._

_"We were children," he argued in reply._

_*****_

It had taken Hermione several tries to find the Winters estate based on Valeria’s description, exacerbating the exhaustion of both Harry and herself, but when she felt her feet land on mushy earth and looked up, she knew she had finally done it. She and Harry were surrounded by rolling, rounded mountains all around and before them, in the center of the Welsh valley was an old, simple, fortress standing dead-center in lake.

“This has to be it,” Hermione said, tentative but relieved.

“Reckon we won’t find many other castles in lakes around here,” Harry agreed. They got their bearings, Hermione bringing her scarf closer to her face to abate the autumn chill carried by a forceful wind. It wasn’t raining, fortunately, but the squishy ground underneath them made it clear that it had been raining, a lot, quite recently. “Now what?” Harry asked as they approached the shoreline. Hermione tried a few of the many spells in her repertoire to figure out how to cross the water, to no avail.

“I’ve never seen magic like this,” Hermione said.

“Maybe Valeria revoked the invite, y’know?” Harry said. Hermione shook her head.

“No. We wouldn’t have found the place if she had,” Hermione said, withdrawing Valeria’s crinkled invitation from her jacket’s pocket. She cleared her throat. “We’ve been invited by Valeria Winters—erm, Malfoy,” she called out, her tone sounding more like a question than a statement.

The deep, heavy sound of moving water filled the air and Hermione clutched Harry’s arm to step back from the shoreline. The perfectly still water began to come alive, swelling and shifting below as a great, stone bridge rose out of nowhere. It pushed the water aside and stood still as the lake returned to an eerily flat calm. With great caution, Hermione approached and took her first step onto the stone bridge, which behaved just like any other. She beckoned Harry to follow and they made the stroll to the looming fortress. Two great, wooden doors swing open before them on their approach and once they made it to through, the bridge behind them moved again, sinking with a low, thunderous sound, back into the depths from which it came.

The silence was deafening when the doors swung closed behind them and the sconces along the walls of the entrance hall lit themselves unprompted in quick succession. Harry and Hermione instinctively drew their wands.

“Is anyone here?!” Harry called out, to be met only with his own echoes in response. “Are you sure it’s safe here?”

“I don’t think Valeria would lure us to a trap she couldn’t possibly know existed. Look around; Portraits used to hang all along here and they’re gone,” Hermione said, gesturing to the walls where the slight change in color of the wooden panels clearly marked out the rectangles where paintings were once hung.

“What now?” Harry asked.

“Valeria said she had heard of Horcruxes from her family. We’ll have a look around. Worst case, we can rest here for a bit,” Hermione said.

“I don’t know if I want to be here longer than we have to. This place gives me the creeps,” Harry said.

“It’s probably one of the most magically secure places in Britain. It’s worth having a rest here while we still can,” she said. Harry was too tired to argue, though he remembered Ron’s protests, warning them about the potential dangers of wandering into the Winters family home blindly. But he was gone now, off to who knows where, and Harry trusted Hermione implicitly. They stepped forward and began making their way through the keep, mainly struck by a kind of nervous awe as they took it all in.

“It’s not very homey, is it?” Harry remarked, noting the lack of comforting warmth that filled places like the Burrow.

“No, it isn’t,” Hermione sighed. “The Winters cared about appearances, remember? It was probably worth it to them to be surrounded by their history in exchange for creature comforts.”

“Lotta good that’s doing them now…” Harry said. “Do you ever feel bad about it?”

“About what?”

“Valeria and what’s happened to her,” Harry said.

“Her father was a Death Eater, Harry, he needed to be exposed for what he was. You can’t take responsibility for every tragedy that happens to people like that,” Hermione said.

“Valeria’s not. Or wasn’t,” Harry said, unsure of where Valeria even stood now.

“I don’t know if she deserved…all of it, but there’s nothing that we can do about it, for now,” Hermione said sympathetically, single-mindedly trying to ignore the suffering of others while they were hell-bent on their mission. They couldn’t afford a distraction now and Harry supposed that while Valeria’s situation was terrible, she was at least much safer than he and Hermione were.

A pop behind them made them instinctively whip around and point their wands at the source. They were both stunned to see a house elf, rather distinguished looking despite her lowlier status, in the center of the entrance hall.

“It’s been a while since the Winters have had guests,” the house elf said in a high voice. She bowed low and with a certain degree of pride. “House elf Tilly at your service.”

Panicked, Hermione walked slowly forward and handed Valeria’s invitation to Tilly. “We were invited by Valeria.” Tilly looked over the note and a spark of joy flickered in her large eyes.

“Oh, Miss Valeria! Tilly hasn’t seen Miss Valeria in so long, not even after her wedding!” The house elf said sadly. “Tilly hasn’t seen any of the Winters in so long…”

“Tilly,” Harry said. “We were told we can use this place as a safe haven for a bit. We won’t stay long. Is it safe here?”

“The Winters’ home is always safe for any guest of the Winters. Mistress Winters has said that Tilly must treat every guest and their secrets with respect!” Tilly insisted, almost insulted by Harry’s implication.

“Is it alright if we have a look around? Valeria said we might be able to find something here that could help us,” Hermione said delicately. Fortunately, the hospitality oriented house elf seemed totally unfazed.

“If Miss Valeria would allow it, then so must Tilly,” the house elf said. “Tilly will prepare you some dinner and the guest rooms!” Harry’s mouth could not help but water a little at the thought of a freshly made, home cooked meal.

“Tilly, wait,” Harry said. “Have you heard anything…about Valeria?” Tilly fell quiet and sheepish, wringing her hands a little.

“Tilly shouldn’t say to strangers…”

“We want to help her, Tilly,” Hermione started. “If we can. She helped us.” Tilly considered a moment and then beckoned the two to follow downstairs. They descended the narrow, medieval passageways down to a large, drafty basement of sorts and followed Tilly into a large, primarily stone built, medieval kitchen. Tilly sorted through a stack of newspapers on a small wooden table and handed one to Hermione. Harry looked over her shoulder as they read the headline: _Wedding Bells for Valeria Winters and Draco Malfoy_ alongside the sullenest photograph of a newlywed couple Hermione had ever seen.

“Mistress Winters asked Tilly to watch over Miss Valeria before she left,” Tilly explained. “Tilly saw this picture and got concerned. So concerned! Miss Valeria never looked so sad in her life!”

“They look like they’re at a funeral,” Harry said, studying the faces of his schoolyard rival and the latter’s wife and for once felt sick on Draco Malfoy’s behalf; a feeling he had never expected to feel.

“Miss Valeria wanted to study after school, not be with that vile boy!” Tilly said.

“Has he ever been…unkind to her?” Hermione asked with dread. Tilly shook her head adamantly.

“Not that Tilly saw, but Tilly _knows_ what happens in the Malfoy house and…it was wrong, but Tilly has to make sure Miss Valeria is safe. Tilly’s heard stories of what happens at Hogwarts…” Tilly said. Harry stepped forward.

“Tell us everything, please,” Harry said. Tilly considered a moment.

“You are Miss Valeria’s friends?” Tilly asked.

“We are,” Hermione said, though sounding a bit unsure, naturally. Tilly nodded and began to reveal what she knew about Hogwarts; the punishments, the Carrows’ reign of terror, but above all Tilly spoke at length about the vile things Valeria had done.

“Miss Valeria…Miss Valeria was never cruel! Something foul is making her do these things!” Tilly insisted, beside herself. “Just like Master Konstantin, he was never cruel either.” Tears welled in Tilly’s eyes.

“Is this a lot like what happened to him?” Hermione asked gently. Tilly nodded.

“Mister Winters never yelled. Tilly’s never heard arguments like the ones he heard in Master Konstantin’s last year at Hogwarts school. Master Konstantin was never the same and now…Mistress Valeria looks just as sad as him…”

After calming Tilly down and digesting the information she had divulged about Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione took some time in the courtyard of the small castle. They approached Konstantin’s grave with a certain uneasy respect as the lilac plant was still in full bloom, even in the biting autumn wind.

“You alright?” Harry asked.

“He fell in love with a muggleborn girl and his parents destroyed his life for it,” she said quietly.

“He made a choice too,” Harry said, remembering the horrible night in the Department of Mysteries.

“I don’t know if it’s as simple as that,” Hermione said.

Draco and Valeria were intertwined, their bodies as close to each other as they could get without defying the laws of nature and melding into one another. Their snogging sessions never started out as snogging sessions, but always devolved into them with more intensity as the weeks dragged along. Valeria didn’t care. It was the only time she didn’t feel like a prisoner. It was the only time she felt like a free young woman and not Draco Malfoy’s wife. It was the only time she could forget what she had done.

But Draco had grown disquieted by the intensity of their trysts as of late in dusty, old dungeon classrooms. He was instinctively drawn to her; to her affection that, like a pathetic puppy, he had so desperately needed. Without her, he was well and truly alone. Even though he had his parents’ love and protection of him, he could not risk a moment’s weakness. He had all of a young man’s desires coupled with an ache in his spirit to be well and truly loved. Only Valeria had given him what he so desperately needed.

He broke their deep kiss at the peak of passion and caught his breath, mind swimming with confusion and shame. But he could not help but rest his forehead on hers, unable to muster the will to back away completely. She cupped the sides of his face with her soft hands.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. He let out a little laugh.

“No. You’re perfect,” he said. “I just…we can’t. Not here.” She did not have to ask as to what he referred and she blushed in the darkness.

“Do you want to…ever?” she asked.

“Of course, I want to,” he admitted with a scoff. “I just…just not like this.”

She took a deep breath. “Draco, if it’s like we said and _this_ is permanent, we’re going to have to eventually.”

“Don’t talk about it like that,” he said.

“I’m just being realistic,” she said.

“Are you serious right now? Do you actually want to do…it in this fucked up situation?!”

“I never thought it’d be like this, but let’s be plain and remember that some things aren’t going to be up to us. I know you want this to all be fake, and I know that our marriage is probably the least of the Dark Lord’s concerns, but we can’t run from it forever,” she said.

“It is fake. It’s all just a sham to punish us and our families, we’ve been over this a thousand times,” he insisted.

“Is it? It doesn’t feel fake to give up my name, my dignity, my goddamn assets. I signed the same papers you did, Draco. It might not feel like it, but this is just as real as any other marriage,” she said. Draco had no desire to hear any of this and the pit in his stomach swelled.

“If we…you know, then it’s real,” he said absentmindedly, as if he were talking to himself.

“I’m not saying we have to anything now. I certainly don’t want to in this awful room, but we have to think about the future and what exactly is stopping us,” she said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Draco thought for a moment, staring into her deep green eyes that he wanted to be lost in forever.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I feel things…for you, but I don’t want to give us being forced into it like this any credit. I’ve tried, Val…I have. I’ve tried to shove it all away and this is the last thing stopping it all from being real; All of it.” He realized he was nonsensically rambling. He was too much of a coward to come out with it, though he had hardly ever been indirect in his life. He had feelings for her, deep long-lasting feelings, and ones that went beyond teenage nonsense, or at least, he thought so; It was hard for him to tell anything for certain anymore. He feared what such feelings meant. If he gave them any thought, did it mean that this marriage was a good thing all along? That it was real, with all the love and devotion as any other happier union? He shuddered at the thought.

He hated this marriage and what it did to them. It was nothing but bleakness; Two lives with the world ahead of them come to a grinding halt. But when he was alone, and ever present in the back of his mind, he could not help, but love the girl he had an arrogant crush on for years. If he were to weaken his resolve, to relent to temptation, he would not do so as just a young man pathetically in love, but as a married man with a storm of dark responsibilities perpetually on the horizon.

For all his various mistakes and many sins, that felt like the gravest above all.

Nothing was resolved that night between Valeria and Draco, as had become the new normal; Life hanging in the balance of the whims of powerful men and women and they were perpetually unable to plan for anything much beyond their schoolwork. The uncertain future made everything else seem so bleak and pointless that over the days, Valeria considered whether or not they should resolve the tension and just get the deed over with.

But they were getting bolder with each other as perhaps was natural for two young people who had love for one another. Valeria had a small epiphany one night tangled up with him again, neither able to resist surrendering a little bit of themselves to each other. Though fully clothed, there was something inherently indecent about the way she sat upon the edge of the desk while he stood, her legs lazily wrapped around him…

“What’s wrong? Did I—?” he asked when she pulled away from him. She shook her head.

“If we…when we…you know, we’ll do it our way,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, almost in a daze and eager to get back to snogging.

“We’ll do it on our terms. They can’t take that from us,” she said. He thought for a moment, but understood her meaning. In truth, it seemed the only reasonable way to come to any sort of conclusion, even if they overthought it.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Alecto Carrow said to Valeria whilst the latter was on her way down to the Slytherin common room from the library with Daphne, some weeks later.

“What can I do for you, Professor?”

“Could I have a word with you in my office?” Alecto asked. Valeria said a farewell to Daphne before following Alecto to the Muggle Studies classroom that served doubly as her office, finding Amycus already there as well. Alecto gestured Valeria to have a seat and Valeria obeyed, nervously awaiting to hear the matter of the situation.

“We confiscated some banned material that one of the problem students, Longbottom, was spreading around, and we believe it’s high time to remove him from the position of prefect,” Amycus said.

“I’m inclined to agree, sir. Pardon me, but shouldn’t Draco be here too? He’s Head Boy after all,” Valeria said.

“I’m afraid that Longbottom’s removal isn’t the meat of the reason we asked to meet with you,” Alecto said. From inside a locked desk drawer she removed a magazine and slid it across the desk toward Valeria. “Tell us what you make of this. Feel free to take your time.”

Valeria delicately picked up the magazine, none other than _The Quibbler_ and gawked at the cover. A photograph of her and Draco from their wedding was dead center on the cover with an obnoxiously scrawled headline reading, _Valeria Winters: Friend or Foe?_ Valeria furiously opened the magazine to the noted pages concerning her and began to read.

 _The Temperamental Allegiances of Valeria Winters_

_By X. Lovegood_

_As readers of this publication are likely well-aware, Valeria Winters, of the old and storied House of Winters, was wed to Draco Malfoy earlier this year. As we at_ The Quibbler _are of the opinion that this union was forced upon these two-young people, I will continue to refer to Valeria by her maiden name. Winters has in the past been in the care of those sympathetic to the resistance, and there have been several reports (all of whom I will keep anonymous) of Winters herself leaning towards the cause, particularly after the deaths of her father and brother and the assassination of Albus Dumbledore. While her part in the plot to kill Dumbledore is well-substantiated, it is perhaps not all it appears to be on the surface as it can be theorized that she committed her crimes underage and under a significant form of duress._

_However, we must tread with caution. If she is an ally, she is an agent of great value to the resistance, being so close to You-Know-Who and his various followers. Recent reports (from anonymous sources) have claimed that Winters has acted in favor of You-Know-Who after her marriage and at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where she currently holds the privileged position of Head Girl. I advise all to proceed with sympathy and caution as I do not believe Winters’s loyalties have been fully revealed._

Valeria was shaking with rage and fear, so much so she could hardly read the words on the page. She looked up at the Carrows who looked at every little move she made, analyzing her. This was everything that could not happen.

“I’m sure you can see why we might find this concerning, Mrs. Malfoy,” Amycus said. Valeria tossed the magazine back on the desk as if it were rotten.

“It’s lies, plain as day. This is slander!” she insisted.

“We believe so too, but we can never be too careful,” Alecto said. “Lovegood avoids specifics, giving less validity to this trash, but he is correct in that you did spend a great deal of time with the Order…”

“Where I was _forced_ to be,” Valeria argued. “They were just using me and holding me captive. I don’t have, nor have ever had, any love for any of them.”

“One of the conditions around your marriage was that your husband was supposed to keep an eye on you and make absolutely certain of your loyalty to the Dark Lord,” Amycus said. “Any reason to doubt that does not bode well—”

“I have been happily and perfectly obedient. I’ve taken my duties extremely seriously. I haven’t given anyone any reason to doubt me beyond circumstances in the past that I had no control over!”

“You’ve performed well, but your heart must be in it, Malfoy,” Alecto said.

“Dumbledore would not be dead if weren’t for my part in it! I tortured that mudblood on the Dark Lord’s command and have not said a kind word to anyone who does not explicitly support him. Lovegood is a known Potter supporter who is once again trying to ruin me with the same bullshit, crackpot nonsense that implicated my father before the Dark Lord took over!”

“Watch your tone,” Alecto said darkly. “The Winters and Malfoy names mean far less than they once did.”

“They mean something to _me_. I will not have my name being slandered yet again—”

The door at the back of the room slammed open and Valeria turned to see Draco marching with purposeful ire towards the front of the room.

“You were not summoned, Malfoy,” Amycus said.

“Zabini told me about Longbottom’s magazine,” Draco said. “And anything that has to do with _my wife_ also has to do with _me_.”

“Then perhaps you can explain to your wife the seriousness of this situation,” Alecto said. Draco glanced down at the magazine on the desk.

“You seriously think she needs a defense against the same man who believes that eating blades of grass grants you magical protection? He’s obviously making all of this up to sow doubt in our ranks. Any moron could see that,” Draco ranted. The Carrows furrowed their respective brows in anger.

“Doubt is doubt, Malfoy,” Amycus said, approaching. “Your daddy won’t be able to help either of you if it ever comes to that, so I suggest you mind your manners in the future. We’ll let this go, for now, but be advised, we’ll be monitoring this.”

“Come on, Valeria, we’re going,” Draco said, taking her gently by the arm and coaxing her out of the chair.

“You were not dismissed!” Alecto called. Draco did not reply nor turn as he gripped Valeria’s arm and led her out, slamming the door behind them. She marched with him without a word to secluded corridor with no student traffic where Draco stopped in his tracks.

“Draco, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” Valeria started, still trembling.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry, I’m going to handle this,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s almost dinner. Go eat and I’ll meet you there later,” he said. He looked at her with a surer vengeance than she had ever seen in him. “No one puts you at risk like this. This ends now.” He must have seen the fear on her face because he softened some. He took her into an embrace and held her head gently against his chest. “You’re fine. They can’t touch you. Go on. I’ll catch up with you, alright?”

She nodded in his chest and he quickly kissed the top of her head before storming off with an energized purpose. Indeed, Draco was on fire like he hadn’t been in quite some time. He knew all too well that Potter’s friends at Hogwarts would do whatever they could to fight the reality of the situation, and for the most part he did not care, so long as he and those he loved were safe. He had suffered too much and worked far too hard to secure both his and Valeria’s shaky position in the new order and he would not suffer his efforts undermined; Especially by the likes of them.

They were exactly where he expected to find them, making their way down to the Great Hall, whispering together with somber looks on their faces. Draco strutted to them and pulled his wand from his robes. They stood straight and still when they saw, their faces twisting to expressions of indignant disgust at them.

“Heard you smuggled in some contraband, Longbottom,” Draco said. The other students who were mingling about, quickly shuffled out of the way at the sound of his voice.

“Didn’t realize you were such an avid reader, Malfoy,” Finnegan sneered as if he were the cleverest boy in school.

“That’s a lot of talk for someone who got their wand taken away last week. Have they given it back yet? No, s’pose not. That’ll make this easier, then,” Draco said, lifting his wand and pointing it squarely at Longbottom, who responded in kind.

“The truth will get out someday, Malfoy, about everything the both of you have done,” Longbottom said.

“You’ve already lost long ago, Longbottom, but I should have known you’d be too thick to see it and know what’s good for you. Let me use simple words; If you or any of your lot come for Valeria like this again, you will end up just like your pathetic fucking parent—”

Draco didn’t even get to finish, before Longbottom flung a hex his way, which Draco was fortunately able to deflect. Longbottom went at him a few more times, but Draco was the stronger duelist of the two, not that that meant much against Longbottom, to Draco’s mind. Draco cast a curse that landed Longbottom flat on his back. Finnegan ran at Draco to tackle him, but Draco stunned him as he approached Longbottom. He kicked the Gryffindor boy swiftly in the chest, knocking him onto his back before he could rise, and then stomped on his right wrist.

He pushed the sole of his shoe down on Longbottom’s wrist, wincing a little at Longbottom’s grunts of pain, but was filled with too much fire to stop now. Longbottom’s wand fell from his grasp as his hand instinctively flexed in pain. Draco took it from the floor and crouched a little to loom over Longbottom, foot still firmly on the unarmed boy’s wrist.

“If you ever so much as think of my wife’s name again, I’ll be sure to get you an appointment with my Aunt Bellatrix,” Draco said darkly and Longbottom glared at him with fury. “I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to finish what she started with your parents. Not a lot of people know that much about that, do they? Too bad for you that my family can still tell each other things, unlike yours. Don’t cross me again, Longbottom.”

Draco secured his position and brought his fist to Longbottom’s eye with force. Only then did Draco lift his foot from Longbottom’s arm and threw the latter’s wand as hard as he could down the opposite direction of the corridor. The students that had stayed on the sidelines of the encounter parted for him as he stormed off.

Meanwhile, Valeria had a matter of her own to attend to. She had not followed Draco’s instructions and instead waited along the path the Ravenclaws usually took from their tower to the Great Hall, filled with anxiety. When she saw Luna near the tail end of the Ravenclaw group and without a walking companion, Valeria moved with purpose. Without a word, she grabbed Luna roughly by the arm and yanked her into a secluded classroom in the corridor. She shoved Luna into the room and secured the door behind them and cast a silencing charm on it for good measure.

“You have some explaining to do, Lovegood,” Valeria said, finding it less difficult to feign intimidation when she was this enraged.

“I won’t apologize for helping to spread the truth,” Luna said, surprisingly sure of herself.

“The truth is a death sentence! And not just for you. Did you or your shit-for-brains father ever consider what publishing that would do to _me_?!”

“But you don’t have to follow them! Help is still out there for you if you would just take—”

“Get it through your head! Potter is gone, he hasn’t been seen or heard from in months. The Dark Lord is victorious! I don’t give a damn about getting out of this and neither should you. You should try to survive like the rest of us,” Valeria ranted.

“That’s not a life I’m willing to fight for,” Luna said.

“Suit yourself. Your father’s magazine already ruined my life once, and if you or him ever put Draco’s life at risk, I will do whatever needs to be done to stop you,” Valeria warned.

“We’re not scared of you. None of us are, whether you’re with us or not,” Luna said.

“It’s your funeral then,” Valeria said. “I’ve made it quite clear to all of you where I stand. I don’t care about your pointless pranks or schemes that are only going to land you in trouble, but I won’t stand any of you putting me or my family’s lives in jeopardy. Am I clear?”

“I think we’re at a bit of an impasse, but I suppose I understand,” Luna said sadly.

“Good. Now go write to daddy and tell him exactly where I stand. Want to avoid such errors in future publications, don’t we?”

Valeria had beaten Draco to dinner anyway and Daphne was having none of Valeria’s attempts to hide where she’d been.

“What the hell is going on with you today?” Daphne asked insistently. Valeria whispered low to Daphne about _The Quibbler_ article and what had occurred in Alecto’s office. Daphne remained unsatisfied. “That doesn’t explain why you’re late to dinner.”

“I had to get on the same page with Lovegood,” Valeria said, gesturing to the Ravenclaw table.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I told her exactly what would happen if she ever so much as breathed a bad thought in my direction,” Valeria said flatly. Daphne looked at her dumbfounded. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Maybe if you and Malfoy weren’t joined at the hip all the time, I’d have an easier time understanding,” Daphne argued.

“He’s my husband, Daphne. We have to keep up a good show whether we like or not,” Valeria said.

“And I’m your best friend. Look, I get that you’re under a lot of pressure, but maybe going out of your way to torment easy targets like Lovegood isn’t the best move. That’s all I’m saying,” Daphne said.

“Can’t let her get away with it, can I? I’m open to suggestions,” Valeria said. Before Daphne could respond, Draco sat down beside Valeria and leaned over.

“I took care of it,” he whispered.

“I spoke with Lovegood,” she told him, to his surprise.

“Are you sure that’s a good—”

“I’m not letting that magazine take everything from me again, Draco,” she said. He hesitantly accepted her response. As dinner was winding down, Longbottom arrived at dinner with a blackening an eye and looking worse for wear, escorted by Finnegan. His cohort at the Gryffindor table rushed to his aid and huddled to whisper with one another, but Valeria turned her head to Draco who wore a borderline sadistic smirk.

“I told you I’d take care of it,” he said. It made her extremely uneasy. She didn’t like seeing that part of Draco, she didn’t like what this had brought out of him. But she could not claim she was angry at him for it; If it came down to her and her loved ones versus them, she knew what she would choose each time without a second thought.

Draco and Valeria split the patrol so they’d have more time alone in the dungeons. Valeria’s mind raced with the implications of everything and how their threatening and petty vengeances would do nothing to dissuade their enemies. Could she even call them enemies? They were just other students after all; some even former acquaintances. She supposed that since their goals were in opposition, that was enough.

“ _Malfoy_.”

Valeria turned at the sound of her married name said with such dripping disdain that she did not have to guess who the speaker was. Ginny stood in the corridor near Gryffindor tower, her wand drawn and face red with ire.

“Back to your common room, Weasley. Don’t want to get caught out after hours again,” Valeria said, drawing her wand and rolling her eyes.

“It’s time that you’ve learned a lesson,” Ginny said.

“Oh, do tell me what for,” Valeria said.

“I was way too nice in letting you off for what you did to Neville in Dark Arts, and after what your husband pulled…” Ginny said, seething.

“Seems Longbottom was spreading around banned literature that smeared my reputation. Draco was merciful in that case,” Valeria said.

“You’re such an evil bitch!” Ginny shouted. “I was right all along; None of us should ever have trusted you!”

“I’m glad you’ve finally decided to take what I’ve been telling you for months seriously,” Valeria said. “Is there anything else you’d like to teach me in this ‘lesson’, you called it?”

Valeria had never seen such hatred aimed at her, but she refused to be moved. As much as she wanted to be left alone, for Ginny to do what was best for her and fall in line, Valeria could not help the resentment from years of pain boiling over within her. It was Potter and his friends that had, in effect, torn her family apart. It was their blind plot that had gotten her father and brother killed. It was them who treated her like a disease when she stayed in their homes. It was them who had disintegrated what hope for a real future, one she could choose, she ever had. And they threatened to take away what chance she had left with an article in the same magazine that tore her apart.

“Yeah,” Ginny said, raising her wand. “Fuck you.” Ginny hexed Valeria, but the latter managed to deflect it in time, probably in thanks to the ward on her arm. “And fuck your sniveling coward of a husband!” Ginny hexed again, Valeria deflected it. “And I hope that your Death Eater brother is rotting in hell!”

That was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back.

She hated them.

There was no going back.

 _“Pride is everything Valeria, perhaps more than reputation, more than tradition,”_ her father once told her. _“If you let them take that from you, you are nothing.”_

She was, and always would be, her father’s daughter.

 _“Metus Caligoria,”_ Valeria thought without conscience or hesitation. A thick mist erupted from the tip of her wand, enveloping Ginny fully. Valeria recalled the curse as explained in Konstantin’s book on dark magic; _The spell, when cast with enough strength, will surround the target in a disorienting fog that, when inhaled, will trigger deep-seated fear in the target. Stronger versions of this curse have the capacity to cause the target to hallucinate horrific visions of their darkest fears…_

Ginny screamed, and the sound echoed through the corridor. Valeria had to dodge as Ginny was casting hexes wildly, desperate to escape the mist. When Valeria finally relented, the fog dissipated and Ginny’s eyes were wild with fear, like an animal backed into a corner. Locking her gaze on Valeria she raised her wand once more with sureness in her ire, and cast spell after spell at Valeria, putting her on the defensive. Ginny was a skilled duelist, Valeria had to give her credit for that as each hex and curse seemed to get stronger the longer Ginny carried on.

But it had to end, once and for all.

The ward on her arm protected Valeria as she secured her footing. She raised and aimed her wand at Ginny, and cried out into corridor, “ _Obfocia!”_

Ginny’s wand immediately fell from her hand as she reached for her neck, as if invisible hands were tightly wrapped around it and cutting off air. Ginny tried to gasp, gulping helplessly like a fish out of water and fell to her knees, eyes swelling and bulging, looking up desperately at Valeria. Valeria held firm on the aptly named Strangulation Curse, feeling the hatred that had building for years now pulse through her.

“Valeria!”

Valeria turned and in doing so released Ginny from the curse. Draco stood for a moment in a sort of frantic disbelief at what he saw; not dissimilar to the wild fear in his eyes that night on the Astronomy Tower that were burned into Valeria’s psyche. He rushed to the girls, Ginny still on her knees gasping and dry-heaving, nearly retching as she caught her breath. Draco took Ginny’s wand off the ground and tucked into his robes.

“You’ll get this back tomorrow,” Draco said.

Ginny coughed. “Fuck…you…”

“Can’t trust you with it right now, Weasley,” Draco said.

“She’s…she’s…the one…who—”

“Shut up!” Draco shouted, as if at a loss for what to do. “Back to your common room!” Without so much as another look at Ginny, he rushed to Valeria and silently took her by the arm and led her away from the scene. Valeria managed to catch one more glance at Ginny who returned Valeria’s hate with her gaze, despite her wet, puffy face.

There was no peace or togetherness found in the abandoned dungeon classroom that the both of them knew so well. As soon as he magically secured the door, Draco rushed to Valeria and took her face in his hands. The gravity of what she had done was starting to dawn on her and her breath became shallow in panic.

“You have to tell me what happened. Valeria, please. You have to tell me—”

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” she gulped, almost tearfully. “She wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” Draco took her into his arms again to soothe her, but it did little to ease her conscience. After a moment of holding her as she panic-sobbed, he released her and put his hands firmly, but not harmfully, on her shoulders.

“Never again, Valeria. You have to promise me you’ll never do that again,” Draco said, his tone just as panicked as hers.

“What?” she said, confused and out of sorts.

“I can’t…I can’t watch you become…like that. Not because of me. Not because of any of this,” he said.

“I don’t underst—”

“I don’t want this for you, what don’t you bloody understand!?” he shouted frantically, almost half mad. “You’re not _this_! You remember, you have to remember; You’re good! You’re _nice_ to people, even if you don’t like them! You’re giving and you _hate_ pain! Remember?! You’re not this!”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” she said, absentmindedly, trying to find words that never came. Draco was nearly beside himself.

“I _know_ you. I’ve always known you. You’re not this. You _cannot_ be this. Do you understand?!”

Not much progress was made that night, both of them too absorbed their own respective and shared agonies to have an actual conversation. It was all they could do to hold on to each other for dear life; As if they were the only two people in the world. It was the only modicum of comfort available to them, and one that perhaps neither of them deserved.

Valeria vomited in the bathroom adjacent to the dormitory after keeping herself awake for hours, seeing Ginny’s face as she suffocated, followed by the lifeless faces of Jane Masters, Dumbledore and Konstantin in her mind's eye. She heard each of their cries; Ginny’s choking, Jane’s screams, Dumbledore’s calm plea of mercy and Konstantin’s final word, Valeria’s own name. She would face no punishment for what she did to Ginny, that she knew. In fact, she could expect to be congratulated on her skills in dark magic. If anything, her near murder of Ginny Weasley helped assure her doubters of exactly what side she was on. And so she was safe. For now.

It was getting easier to live in the new world, but harder to live with herself.

She quietly dug through her things, finding that small vial of deadly poison she had made almost a year ago. The one she had saved for a purpose she was only now realizing. She removed the chain Draco had made in Alchemy class from her neck and, curtains of her bed drawn closed, magically fused the vial and chain together to craft a wearable necklace.

Draco was right. Such a thing could never happen again and she hated her own hands for what they had done. She tucked the chain into her sleeping clothes and burrowed back into bed, clutching the poison from outside her clothes.

With this, she could ensure that she would never become a monster. Not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got darker, I know, and I'm sorry, but things down the line needed to be set up. I promise these two will catch a break soon. Be well, and stay safe. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me and the lovely comments/kudos as of late. I appreciate every one of them.


	22. Transitions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild suicidal thoughts ahead.

_"I don't expect your forgiveness," he said._

_"I haven't got much of a choice," she replied._

_*****_

“I don’t think we should get involved,” Blaise said after breakfast the following Saturday morning. Several of the seventh year Slytherins had commandeered the area of the common room by the fireplace at Daphne’s insistence. Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode were absent, also at Daphne’s insistence, not that they would have been interested anyway. They only had a narrow window of time to meet, not knowing when Draco and Valeria would return.

“She almost killed someone, Blaise,” Tracey said.

“And the Carrows and Snape will handle it. It’s not our place to do anything,” Blaise argued.

“I hate to say it, but how do we know Weasley didn’t have it coming?” Pansy offered. Daphne rolled her eyes, the only member of the group standing, pacing around in helpless worry.

“Valeria knows what she’s doing. She knows how to deal with someone without trying to kill them,” Daphne said. “It’s like we don’t even know her.”

“Could we really expect her not to lose it at some point, after everything? To be honest, I thought it’d be Malfoy to snap first, but I can’t say I blame her,” Nott said, speaking up for once.

“And even if we decided to do something, what would you have us do? I don’t think either her or Malfoy would sit for a friendly chat and we can’t risk stepping out of line, if it came to that,” Blaise said.

“For fuck’s sake, people,” Daphne said, exacerbated. “She’s our friend. We’ve known her for years, some of us before we even came to Hogwarts. We can’t just sit around and watch this happen.”

“Are you scared for her or of her, Greengrass?” Nott asked. Daphne took a moment to think of an answer she could not find with any honesty. Nott might have been right and Daphne didn’t want to face the truth.

“We should also remember what she said on the train,” Tracey said. “About the strengthening of pureblood bloodlines…”

“What are you talking about?” Blaise asked.

“We asked her if others are going to be paired off like they are; Like how it used to be done,” Pansy said awkwardly, nearly blushing.

“That’s insane,” Blaise said. “Their situation was completely different—”

“Get a grip, Blaise,” Daphne said. “You don’t really think that if their marriage is some kind of successful that we won’t be next.” A silence fell over the room as it began to dawn on each of them, in their own way what exactly their world will come to. “You all saw the posters in Diagon Alley, telling everyone to pair off young with their goddamn picture on it. This was never just about them. If it happens to them, it happens to us too.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question; What the hell are we supposed to do?” Nott asked.

“Would they even want our help?” Pansy asked.

“Valeria barely talks to us anymore, Daphne,” Tracey said, reluctantly agreeing with Pansy.

“We could try to take the heat off her,” Nott said.

“What does that mean?” Blaise asked with a sigh.

“I mean, has anyone in Slytherin gotten a detention this whole year? Have any of us gotten house points taken away? We’re more or less untouchable. We can get away with more than all the other houses,” Nott said.

“So what?” Tracey asked.

“No, he’s right,” Daphne said. “If we all rally around Valeria, and Malfoy I guess, and get other houses in trouble, then maybe the other houses will calm down, fall in line. Then there’s at least a little pressure taken off Valeria and—”

“I don’t see how that would help,” Zabini said.

“Then maybe the other houses will stop trying to come for her, like they have,” Daphne said.

“I still don’t understand what that was all about. Why does Weasley care so much about what Valeria does?” Pansy asked.

“It doesn’t matter. If we do this then we can help Valeria without putting ourselves in real danger. Starting with you, Blaise,” Daphne said.

“Why me?”

“You’re a prefect,” Nott said annoyed.

“This sounds idiotic, but I’ll do what I can, I guess,” Zabini said with an annoyed sigh.

Upstairs, the Headmaster’s office was feeling a bit crowded. Snape sat at his desk and Valeria in the chair opposite him. Behind her stood Draco, scowling and arms folded. The Carrows were calmly beside Snape with Slughorn and McGonagall off to the side. Valeria was exhausted, having barely slept, but felt entirely numb to everything and everyone around her. She had just finished explaining what had happened in the incident with Ginny Weasley the night prior, and for the most part told the entire truth, save for the part where Ginny said she once, sort of, trusted Valeria.

“It seems Mrs. Malfoy acted in self-defense,” Amycus said.

“Where did you even learn the curse?” Snape asked.

“My brother had a book on dark magic. I’ve had it for a while,” Valeria said.

“Severus, I beg you to do something about this,” McGonagall said.

“And what would you suggest?” Alecto asked with snark.

“She nearly _murdered_ Ginny Weasley within the walls of this school! Surely, we can agree that this is an expulsion worthy offense,” McGonagall said. Valeria turned to McGonagall and shot her a dark look. Even so, Valeria found the thought of expulsion a little tempting. Hogwarts was a nightmare from the start of term and if she were to be expelled, maybe she’d be allowed some time at home alone, able to stay out of everything for a while. Though, the thought of being apart from Draco too long filled her with anxiety for the both of them. When Alecto laughed, at once Valeria knew that expulsion was out of the question.

“Weasley was the one who started it,” Alecto said.

“Miss Weasley wasn’t using deadly curses!” McGonagall insisted. “Severus, Mrs. Malfoy's actions make her a danger to the other students—”

“You’re awfully quiet, Slughorn. What say you as Slytherin’s Head of House?” Snape asked. Slughorn stammered a little and looked around at the other adults in the room.

“Well, I…This is Mrs. Malfoy’s first serious…offense, if you will. I think we can give her the benefit of the doubt, considering the amount of stress she’s been under in the past year,” Slughorn said. Valeria knew Slughorn had no warm feelings towards her anymore, after the events of last year for one thing, though he still seemed to admire her skill in Potions. The only reason Slughorn didn’t support McGonagall’s side was his fear of the Carrows and the Death Eaters at large; It was plain as day.

“And what of the student in my House who is still recovering from her injury in the Hospital Wing?” McGonagall asked.

“Your students have been breaking school rules, refusing to do schoolwork, slandering other students and have caused nothing but problems all year. It was high time the girl was taught a lesson and Mrs. Malfoy was well within her rights to act as Head Girl. Might I suggest you make Weasley an example to the others in Gryffindor House, about what happens when one steps out of line,” Amycus said.

“Severus…Please,” McGonagall said with futile ire, trying to appeal to any perceived goodness she could find in the new Headmaster. Silence fell over the room as Snape deliberated, his face revealing nothing as usual. He stared into Valeria’s eyes, studying her almost, searching for something…

“It appears Mrs. Malfoy lashed out in a moment of weakness after being harassed by other students for the lion’s share of this year. Her behavior is not worthy of expulsion or other disciplinary action, though I would suggest employing less severe forms of magic in future altercations,” Snape said.

“This is an outrage!” McGonagall said. Snape picked up Ginny’s wand, which Draco had brought with him that morning and placed on the Headmaster’s desk, and handed it to McGonagall.

“Return this to Miss Weasley and you’d be wise to inform her to tread carefully in the future,” Snape said.

“Severus, we must at least inform Miss Weasley’s parents…” McGonagall said.

“I’m sure Weasley is capable of informing her parents herself. This is not a matter that requires their interference,” Snape insisted. McGonagall stood for a moment in stunned disbelief, as though she were looking for some stern, choice, words to say to all the others present. Instead, she stormed out of the room with Ginny’s wand in hand, followed shortly by Slughorn who Snape quickly dismissed.

“If you would excuse us, I’d like to have a few words with the Malfoys privately,” Snape said to the Carrows. They hesitated a moment, but satisfied with the result of the meeting, showed themselves out. Snape waited to be sure they were well on their way before speaking again. “You are getting reckless.”

“Pardon me, Professor, I thought we were _supposed_ to take disciplinary action and had more freedom in that than in previous years,” Valeria said.

“The last thing the world needs, Mrs. Malfoy, is more of your sarcastic witticisms. Do not pretend that what you did was in the interest of your Head Girl duties or anything less than losing control of yourself,” Snape said.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Draco said.

“Mind your place, Draco,” Snape said. He turned back to Valeria. “You have done well to earn the trust of others and have settled well into your sudden position, but do not think for a moment that you are ever necessarily invincible. Your actions were unpredictable and being unpredictable makes you a liability, which in turn makes you dangerous.”

“So if I do nothing, I’m a traitor and if I do act, I’m a liability. Do tell me, Professor, what am I to do?” Valeria asked.

“That balance is your responsibility to find. I suggest you do so quietly and with great care,” Snape said. He looked up to Draco. “Speaking of responsibilities, I’d like to have a word with you about your own, Draco. You’re dismissed, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Valeria looked up to see Draco rolling his eyes, but he nodded to her as a small gesture of reassurance. Valeria politely, but tersely, excused herself from Snape’s office whilst Draco replaced her in the lone chair before Snape’s desk. He sat back in the chair, exhausted himself, and entirely fed up with this entire morning.

“You need to watch her more closely,” Snape said without any introduction.

“I can’t exactly follow her around every second of every day. This is the only real outburst she’s had—” Draco said.

“You know what’s at stake,” Snape said.

“I am more aware than _anyone_ ,” Draco spat, enraged and insulted by Snape’s insinuation.

“As this war continues and even after, the bar of expectations for the both of you is only going to be raised. You are the one with the Dark Mark and therefore it falls on you to ensure she behaves wisely,” Snape said. Draco leaned back and ran his hands through his hair, frustrated about hearing the same speech over and over. He also did not want to know what would be expected of him, and Valeria by extension, in the future. At least not now. “I know this has not been easy. I know you care for her and I’m sure it must be difficult to be unable to express that care how you wish to, but you must remain resolute in the future, for your family’s survival.”

“Right. I understand,” Draco said spitefully with a drawl. “Is there anything else, Professor?”

“There is,” Snape said with a nod. “The Dark Lord’s patience with the publications of Xenophilius Lovegood has been exhausted. We’ve developed a plan; We will be taking Luna Lovegood, his daughter, and holding her at Malfoy Manor until her father can learn to behave.”

Draco’s heart sunk. Luna Lovegood was of no value to the Dark Lord that he could see; All she had done was join in some of the resistance activities at school. The thought of one of his peers imprisoned in his house, for god knows how long, filled him with dread.

“What does she have to do with anything?” Draco asked.

“It has been determined that this is the most effective way to get her father to cooperate,” Snape said.

“And what does it have to do with me?”

“Your assistance may be needed. The operation will occur during the journey back to London on the Hogwarts Express for the holiday recess. I’m aware that Valeria and Lovegood have been acquaintances in the past and are partnered for a project; If you could ask Valeria to draw Lovegood out into the corridor at the right time, the risk for collateral damage should things go awry decreases,” Snape explained.

Draco laughed a little. “I don’t know how you expect me to do that. They’re definitely not friends.”

“If you can’t think of something, then the task will be carried out regardless, but if we could avoid risking doing it the hard way, it would be ideal,” Snape said. “Think about it Draco. Keep in mind that your first priority is the Dark Lord, as dictated by that mark on your arm.”

The weeks passed and to Valeria’s surprise, it was almost as if the incident with Ginny never happened save for a few noticeable differences. Zabini and Bulstrode were taking their duties more seriously, seemingly overnight and the other Slytherins were reporting students left and right. Valeria didn’t question it as it gave the student body something else to talk about and made her duties easier in general. Naturally, the disdain from Ginny and her peers was palpable though they never acted on it. Luna in particular would hardly look at Valeria and only exchanged short sentences with her pertaining to the Magical Theory project. It certainly wasn’t unexpected, but what surprised Valeria the most was how little she cared about their hatred of her when not very long ago, in the grand scheme, such ardent dislike of her would have eaten away at her conscience. Then again, that Valeria, from before, would have been speechless at who her future-self would become. The younger students, though not so much in Slytherin, avoided her like the plague, which was all the same to her.

The fact that she had been able to do what she did without any retaliation was almost bittersweet, something she often thought about while helplessly awake at night. It felt good to have some power again, to avoid even a slap on the wrist for nearly any act, so long as it was taken against the correct people. However, she was filled with dread as she descended into a shaky sleep the lack of action against her was demonstrative of the new world she not only lived in, but now represented.

Sleep was no respite, which she should have long been used to at this point. Each night, she would hold the poison vial around her neck for some sort of comfort or control; That this could all be over on her terms if she so chose it, or needed it. Her dreams swirled into nightmares regularly, often reliving, in the fantastical realm of her unconscious, the horrors of the recent past. But recently, it appeared the future was the epicenter of her mind’s fears. She often dreamt that she stood beside an older Draco, who looked shockingly like his own father, even down to how they dressed and before them stood a boy. A boy who looked remarkably like Draco, save for his deep green eyes and with an eerily perfect face. Scenes played out each night with Valeria trapped where she stood, unable to move or speak, as she watched the boy commit atrocities left and right with a gleaming smile and no remorse.

At one point the boy, almost a man, approached her and Draco, standing right in front of her, his shoulders back and proud. He was tall, a bit lanky and boyishly handsome. He would stop before her and raise the sleeve on his left arm, revealing a jet-black Dark Mark freshly printed. His green eyes would then stare devilishly into hers.

_“Mother, aren’t you proud of me?”_

It was then that Valeria would wake up in a cold sweat, almost panting and sometimes mumbling to herself. She would struggle between trying to get more rest or staying awake and avoid risking seeing that horrible boy again. She was not naïve enough to be ignorant of what she saw; It was the future she feared, the one she dreaded and the one that was at this point inevitable.

She needed reprieve and retreated to keep herself awake as long as possible in the Slytherin common room, making her way through schoolwork, often with Draco doing the same close by. One night, on the verge of complete dysfunction wrenched by exhaustion, she tinkered with her Magical Theory project whilst keeping an eye on a bubbling cauldron nearby.

“Didn’t realize we had more Potions homework,” Draco said as he came down from the boys’ dormitories.

“Just a sleeping draught,” she said, gesturing to the cauldron.

“Having trouble sleeping?” he asked. She nodded. “You haven’t mentioned that.”

“We haven’t been doing a lot of _talking_ recently, have we?” she said with a smirk, referring to their late night rendezvouses alone. Draco blushed at the comment, and deftly changed the subject to the magazines he held in his hand.

“Well, if you hadn’t left dinner so early—”

“I wanted to get a head start on the potion,” she said.

“If you’d stop interrupting…” he said, with feigned annoyance. “Late delivery. Mother sent me these.” He plopped one of the magazines, catalogues really, on the table before her and she looked at the garish cover; A seascape in some sort tropical destination. Her eyes flashed to the title, _Magnificent Destinations for the Newlywed Couple._

“What the hell is this?” Valeria said.

“Honeymoon destinations,” Draco sighed. “Mother’s still under the impression that it’s feasible after we’re done with school and insists we plan now.”

“Doesn’t your family have a place in France? Why can’t we just go there?” she asked.

“Just pick something,” he said, plopping down on an armchair near her. “She’s been worried and this distracts her. She’s just trying to do something nice for us.”

“Where do you want to go?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Don’t care. The fantasy of us going away somewhere, _anywhere_ , is enough for me for now.”

Valeria reluctantly set the catalogue down beside her and resolved to look over them when she had a chance, despite having no interest in a proper honeymoon and not really believing one would happen any time soon. Her eyes darted to Draco, who held other booklets in his lap as he relaxed into the chair. She raised her eyebrow at him.

“What are those then?” she asked, gesturing to his lap.

He sighed, again. “More from mother. Christmas is coming up.” He tossed one of the books over to her. It was a catalogue of gifts for that year’s holiday. She flipped through it absentmindedly, letting the pages quickly turn, barely registering anything she saw.

“Can’t believe they’re still publishing these things,” she said.

“Have to keep some traditions alive. The good ones at least. Mother said we’ll be hard pressed to go out and shop, so ordering something is safest,” Draco said, flipping through one of the other books in his lap. Valeria had completely forgotten about gifts and gift-giving and ran through the list in her head of everything she’d need to buy and for whom. “We could do something jointly for my parents, if you want. I’ll just pick some things out and stick your name on it.”

“Yeah, might be a good idea,” Valeria said. She looked at him, having no clue what to get him in the slightest. She couldn’t possibly think of anything creative enough to match or top what he had given her for Christmas last year, that being the ward. “You don’t have to get me anything, you know. I can’t think of anything I could possibly want anyway.”

“Even if I didn’t want to get you something, my mother would never allow it. I’ll think of something. Besides, I’m a much better gift-giver than you,” he said.

She laughed. “And how do you figure that?”

“All you got me for years was candy your parents gave you. I don’t think I got a real gift from you until a couple years ago,” Draco said.

“You begged for that candy, if I remember correctly. I think you tried to steal it first year. And remember the necklace you gave me for my birthday in front of Terry Boot? The same one you re-gifted a year later?” she said.

“Oh, come on, even you thought that was funny,” Draco said.

“Funny, yes. But I wouldn’t call it evidence of your allegedly incredible gift-giving skills,” she said.

“I’ll never forget the look on Boot’s face…” Draco reminisced.

“You were the smuggest bastard in the world that day,” she said with a laugh. “I was about ready to murder you.”

“It was worth it,” he said.

“Why did you do that anyway?” she asked.

“I was jealous,” he said with a shrug. “And I thought Boot was an annoying know-it-all, so two birds with one necklace. Come on, you had to have known I was jealous.”

“I did know. Just surprised to hear you admit it,” she said. “That’s very…self-aware of you.”

“Locking yourself in the Room of Requirement for a year gives you a lot of time to yourself to think. Not that I need to mention it, but seeing as how we’re formally man and wife, there’s really no point in me lying about it, at least to you. If anyone else asks, I wasn’t jealous,” he said.

“Your secrets are safe with me,” she said with a noticeable dose of sarcasm.

The holidays loomed ever closer and the final assignments for the first half of the year were in full swing. Not that a stranger could tell by looking at Hogwarts that Christmas was on the doorstep, save for the chilly air and fresh snow blanketing the grounds. The castle remained as it had since the beginning of the year. Not even a single strand of garland ornamented an inch of the castle.

The Magical Theory presentation went well and filled Valeria with relief that, at least for the moment, she wouldn’t have to deal with having Luna Lovegood for a class partner. She kept the box without thinking, and Luna made no protest. Valeria’s spirits had risen slightly over the course of the passing weeks in general, her potion helping her sleep dreamlessly, though she always awoke groggy, and giving her enough energy to get through the day. Although she wasn’t thrilled about spending the holidays at Malfoy Manor, any place seemed better than Hogwarts. At least she would have her own space and be able to freely move about the grounds, in spite of the cold weather. She was also looking forward to sharing a bed with Draco again, a thought that made her blush a little. She had missed having him there the past few months, and though they had yet to perfectly master cohabitation in their situation, she still could find comfort in the fact that he was by her side.

Muggle Studies was one of the final and most dreaded classes of the first half of the year. Most of the students, with some apparently refusing, primarily Longbottom and his cohort, had turned in their final essays on the empirical and ethical reasons for maintaining blood purity in magical genealogy. Any third year could tell the sources they were meant to use were fabricated nonsense, but Valeria complied without complaint and managed to turn in something passable. Towards the end of the session, Alecto leaned against the edge of her desk at the front of the room and addressed the class.

“Before I dismiss you for the holidays, I wanted to emphasize how important every ounce of magical blood within each of you is,” Alecto began. “All of you are the future of the wizarding world, which is why this class is mandatory this year. We want to highlight just how vital it is that your pure blood remain pure for generations to come. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy have served as fine examples of what all young witches and wizards should aspire to in their partnerships. I encourage you all to follow in their pristine footsteps. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, could I ask you to say a few words to your peers about your experience in your marriage? How’d you come to the decision and what has it been like? Perhaps you could soothe any anxieties your friends may have.”

 _“It’s been absolute hell, thank you very much,”_ Valeria thought to herself, taken aback by the question and noting Alecto’s sinister smile. Valeria could feel the humiliation of her wedding day all over again with all eyes on her. Surprisingly, Draco was the one to speak up first after clearing his throat.

“Valeria and I have known each other our whole lives and had been close for a while. It just seemed to make sense,” Draco said. Alecto looked expectantly at Valeria.

“It’s a fine match. Our families have always been close too. After everything I’d been through, I wanted nothing more than the stability a marriage would bring me,” Valeria said, making it up as she went along, lying through her teeth.

“Yes, that’s right. Your whole ordeal is nothing short of tragic. As Mrs. Malfoy said, life under the Dark Lord will bring a sense of peace and order to the wizarding world that our enemies long to destroy,” Alecto said. “In light of the holiday season, I encourage you all to consider who you might choose as a partner and perhaps make an effort to reach out to them. You never know.”

Alecto’s attempts at encouraging some sick romantic fantasy made Valeria cringe, but she could hear what Alecto was gently trying to say; It was time for the older students to begin pairing off in order to sustain the pureblood population of the wizarding world.

“It was stupid of us to think we’d be the only ones,” Valeria said to Draco when they were alone in their usual abandoned classroom, the night before departure.

“That’s what we get for being good at this, good enough, at least,” Draco said.

“Do you feel bad about it? I mean, our friends, they’ve done nothing to deserve this,” she said.

“Neither did we,” Draco said.

“If we’re a _good_ example, I don’t even want to think about what a bad example would be like for us,” she said. Draco let out a little laugh, while he lazily played with the wedding ring around his finger.

Draco was nervous the day they departed, almost jumpy. Valeria didn’t pry, certainly not around the crowds of students all trying to get on the Hogwarts Express. They had agreed ahead of time that they would spend a good portion of the journey alone in the prefect’s compartment; one of the few luxuries of their positions that they chose to take advantage of. Draco certainly was not in a mood for socializing, and Valeria was trying to avoid Daphne, to her shame. They believed that none of the other prefects would join them, as most of the student body tended to huddle together in their respective groups.

The inertia when the train departed made Valeria’s heart sink, nervous about what would happen at Malfoy Manor, being the Dark Lord’s headquarters. She honestly could not say what would be worse. She tried to preoccupy herself with Narcissa’s gift catalogues, hunting for things that her friends and loved ones might like, having put it off long enough. Draco stared lazily at the ceiling, having a lie down on the seat opposite her, lost in thought or trying to get tired enough to sleep, it was hard to tell which. He kept checking his watch, the one his father gave him, as if he could beckon time move faster with his eyes.

“You keep that box thing you made?” he asked.

“Yeah, though I didn’t really ask Lovegood if she wanted it. Why?” she said.

He shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Do you think I should have offered it to her?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Damn, maybe I should have. She helped with it too…”

“You’re guilty about _that_ out of everything?” he asked.

“I don’t know. She was nice to me…mostly.”

“Then go ask her if it bothers you so much,” he said with a sigh. There was something odd about his tone that Valeria could not place, but she didn’t linger long enough on it. Her legs were getting sore from so much sitting and she was making no progress with gifts anyway. She stood up and stretched for a moment.

“I’ll go ask. Could use a walk anyway,” she said. She got the box out of her luggage and set off down the aisle of the train, peering into each compartment to try and find Lovegood. She apologized when she got the wrong one, but that didn’t stop the other students from giving her blank stares or looks of fear and disdain. She had learned to ignore it over the weeks and nearly turned back, thinking this enterprise was foolish when a mess of blonde hair caught her attention through the crack of a closed curtain on a compartment window.

She knocked with great hesitation and after a few hushed whispers from within, it opened. Longbottom was there and looked down his nose at Valeria with disgust.

“You’re not welcome here,” he said.

“I just want to ask Lovegood a question,” Valeria said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, yeah? What about?” Longbottom said. She held the box up to him.

“It’s about school project, for god’s sake,” Valeria said. “I think Lovegood can decide for herself whether or not she wants to talk to me.”

“It’s okay, Neville,” Lovegood’s distinctive voice rain. Luna gently urged Neville aside and stepped out into the empty aisle.

“Sorry to bother you. I realized I didn’t consider if you wanted this. I don’t know if I have a real use for it anyway,” Valeria said, holding out the project.

“That’s…nice of you,” Luna said, suspicion in her voice. “But I think you should—”

Lovegood stopped when the train came to a grinding halt and Valeria instinctively caught Luna as the latter lost her balance. There were several cries and screams coming from compartments all up and down the train. Valeria frantically looked around as the lights flickered a few times.

“What’s happening?!” Luna asked.

“I have no idea,” Valeria said in all honesty. She lunged for the compartment door. “Get back inside.” But before Valeria could open the door and shove Luna inside, Luna fell once again, this time straight to the floor, stiff as a board. Valeria looked up to see Draco standing with his wand pointed where Luna stood.

“Draco, what’s—!” Valeria shouted. But from behind Draco emerged the familiar sight of masked Death Eaters, marching toward her. The compartment door flew open with Neville stopping seeing Luna stunned on the floor.

“What did you do!?” Neville shouted, drawing his wand and prompting his friends to rise and crowd around behind him. Valeria drew her wand as well.

“I didn’t—!” But the Death Eaters had arrived and magically took up Luna’s body.

“We’ll take it from here, Mrs. Malfoy,” one of them said, and Valeria recognized the voice, having heard it several times at Malfoy Manor.

“What’re you doing with her?!” Neville cried, raising his wand at the Death Eaters’ backs. Valeria reached to stay Neville’s arm, but he shoved her away, though not hard enough to make her fall. Draco disarmed Neville at once and the Death Eaters slinked off into the distance. Valeria looked up to Draco, wide-eyed and confused.

 _I’m sorry_ , he mouthed to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me and all the comments/kudos of late. Stay well, stay safe.


	23. Win, Lose or Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild sexual content ahead.

_"Did it mean anything to you in the end?" she asked curiously and without malice._

_"Those vows did. I think I meant those words," he replied._

_*****_

Narcissa’s relief at seeing her son, as well as Valeria, safe and sound in the flesh was the only good to come from arriving at King’s Cross. Valeria had managed to keep her feelings in, keeping her mouth shut even up to arriving at Malfoy Manor to be greeted by Lucius, who had been awaiting them. Lucius placed a firm, but comforting grasp on Draco’s shoulder and then squeezed Valeria’s hands between his own as he greeted them.

“Please pardon me, but I’m afraid the journey was long and I could use some rest,” Valeria said, on the verge of bursting.

“Of course,” Narcissa said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” Valeria gave each of her in-laws one final polite nod as she quietly bid them goodnight, and began to make ascension up the main stairs, trusting that her luggage would be sent to the chambers she shared with Draco.

“I’d like a short word before you go, Draco,” Lucius said, stopping Draco as he went to follow Valeria.

“Lucius, he’s exhausted,” Narcissa protested.

“It won’t take long. Come,” Lucius ordered. Valeria overheard, but didn’t turn around. She leaned her back against the door in their room after she shut it behind her, running her fingers through her hair, trembling with desperate anger and no way to channel it. More of Draco’s things had been moved into the room from his former childhood bedroom. There was some more furniture and miscellaneous stuff she hadn’t seen the last time she was in this room. Photographs decorated the walls and even his small collection of broomsticks was mounted handsomely on the far wall.

She was getting warm as her blood threatened to boil over and went to hang up her traveling cloak in her wardrobe. Upon opening it she was met with new robes. Valeria looked at some of them, all dark or muted colors and most of them long with high collars. Though she could easily tell that they were elegant and finely made, it resembled the wardrobe collection of an older woman.

She needed air. She opened the great glass doors to the private balcony and took in the freezing night air, not minding the chill. She looked out onto the vast, dark grounds below and let the dry air fill her lungs and cool her down. She shivered against the cold, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stand to be in that room another moment. The chamber door clicked shut behind her and she whipped around to see Draco, who promptly rushed over to her. Just a few hours ago she was looking forward to spending time alone in a place that wasn’t a dingy old classroom, but now the sight of him filled her with anger and dread.

“What are you doing? It’s freezing,” he said, he gently pulled her back into the room and shut the balcony doors.

“Luna Lovegood?” she asked him, the only words of the many swirling in her mind that she managed to get out. She pulled herself from his grasp and clutched the fabric near the lapels on his robes. “ _Luna Lovegood?_ ” she repeated through her teeth. Draco pulled her off him, but held her gently by the wrists.

“I had no say in that,” he said, speaking low.

“Where is she?!” Valeria demanded, her eyes tearing up in her anger.

“In the cellar…” he hesitantly admitted.

“Why!? What has she done!?”

“Think for a second, will you? Did you really think there’d be no consequences for what her father published?”

“She didn’t write those words,” Valeria said, yanking her arms out of his grip.

“No, but she distributed copies at school and is his daughter,” Draco argued. “Listen, she’ll be fine. It’s just to get her father to stop his writing.”

“She’s locked in the fucking cellar, she’s not fine! The same cellar I was locked in—”

“And that we got you out of,” Draco said.

“How long? How long are you keeping her there?”

“As long as it takes for her father to behave,” Draco said. “It was out of my control. It wasn’t my decision—”

Her rage was not quelled. “You _knew_ I would talk to her about the project after you mentioned it. You manipulative son of a bitch, cowa—!”

“You need to keep your voice down,” he said darkly. “It was the easiest way to get her out in the open and avoid anyone else getting in the way,” Draco said.

“You _used_ me,” she said.

“It wasn’t my plan,” he insisted. “And it would have happened whether or not you knew.”

“You should have at least told me!”

“And what? Risk you warning her or going on easy on them again?!”

“That’s not fair. I’m your _wife_. You’re supposed to trust me,” she said.

“I still have to do my bloody job! You should understand that by now!” he shouted.

“So that’s it? You’ll simply carry out any plan that’s asked of you?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said, appearing a bit hurt by the question. She took a step forward, looking up at him intensely.

“I want to hear you say it,” she said. He took a half step back and yanked the sleeve up on his left arm, displaying to her his Dark Mark in full once again.

“I don’t have to. This speaks for me,” he spat.

“I can’t even stand to look at you after what you’ve done,” she said with disgust.

“After what _we’ve_ done. You’re on our side, remember?”

“This has nothing to do with me. I didn’t receive that mark with open arms and I haven’t done—”

“Don’t play the martyr with me again!” he said. “You are not innocent in this and you’ve never been! You’re a Death Eater’s daughter and Konstantin—”

“Don’t say his name!”

“Konstantin received the mark happily. My father was there and told me the whole story!”

She was shocked, tears welling up in her eyes once more, but she refused to back down. “I didn’t know!”

“Everyone else did! Or at least managed to put the pieces together. You want to stay safe. You want us to get out of this alive, well this is the price! It always was, Valeria. We _both_ have been raised for this our entire lives and so I will not allow you to stand here and pretend you’re the only victim here,” he ranted.

“Oh, _allow_ me?”

“If I have to, yes!” he shouted. “You wanted me to take responsibility, right? You wanted me to be a man, then here it is; We’re dead if you try to play both sides like you always have. You will _never_ be like Potter or his friends and you never were. They all _hate_ you! I am not going to _allow_ you to get us killed because you feel sorry for them, whether you like it or not!”

Valeria was nearly trembling, as if she were about to explode as the anger surged through her body. “You think you’re capable of that? One moment you’re helpless and the next you’re barking orders at me like you own me!”

“I do own you!” he shouted, taking her aback. “You are _my_ wife, you have _my_ surname, you live in _my_ house and because of _this_ , I outrank you!” He gestured to the Dark Mark. “If I could change that, I would, but I’m not exactly in a powerful position here either!”

She laughed at him cruelly, stifling any semblance of compassion creeping up in her heart. “Is that what you tell yourself? Is that what you told yourself all last year? When you got Dumbledore killed? When you left me behind and _ran_ after they tortured me, and did _nothing_!?”

“If I hadn’t done what I did, you’d be dead and don’t forget who helped me the entire year and who nearly murdered Weasley a few weeks ago! You are about as blameless as I am!” he argued in return. “And what would you have had me do? Stay at Hogwarts? Everything I did was to keep you alive—”

“Don’t act like you’re a goddamn hero!” she yelled with a hoarse voice.

“I’m not, but I’m not going to let you turn me into your villain either!” He took a breath to collect his thoughts. “Do you think I enjoy this? Do you actually think I wanted to be married at seventeen to a wife who doesn’t listen, monitoring your every move and having it fall on my head if you fuck up?! Do you think I get some sick satisfaction out of any of this? I have done everything I possibly can and sacrificed over and over to make this as easy on you as I can, so maybe the least you could do is see that and be a little bit grateful for once!” 

She took another defiant step towards him. “Oh, what a good husband you are! Do you want me to get on my knees and thank you?”

His expression twisted into one of hurt and repulsion. “You know that’s not what I want. You _know_ I wouldn’t—”

“And when the pressure’s on, Draco? How am I to know that you won’t fall in line like you always do? You said it yourself that you’d do _anything_ —”

“That’s not fair,” he said sickened by her implication.

“That doesn’t answer my question; How the hell am I to know that—”

“Because I could have done it already!” he yelled, the loudest she had ever heard him shout in his life, his rage boiling over and erupting in once succinct statement. “I could do it now too, but I won’t because, I—” he stopped himself midsentence and looked at the floor to collect himself. “I have sacrificed so much to protect you and have done everything I can to make this nightmare as comfortable for you—”

“With this!?” she exclaimed, gesturing around the room. She quickly drew her wand. “Thank you so much, my loving _husband_ , for the _comfortable_ marriage bed,” she said sarcastically through her teeth before aiming her wand at the large, solidly crafted bed and casting a blasting charm. The posts of the bed fell over with a bang, and the bed’s ceiling with them. The short posts holding the bed off the floor buckled under the force and the entire piece of furniture fell the small distance with a deafening thud.

“Valeria, stop!” Draco ordered. But she turned from him and flung open the doors on her large, ornate wardrobe.

“Do tell me how dressing me up like a middle-aged matron protects me!” she shouted and silently cast _Diffindo_ with a long slashing motion, immediately halving the majority of the garments within, lengthwise. She took a breath and raised her arm, flashing him the ward he had given her nearly a year ago to the day. “Or perhaps you were meaning this.” She pried the serpentine band from her wrist.

“Don’t you dare!” Draco demanded, stepping towards her, but she was already in motion, swinging the balcony doors open and stepping out once more into the winter night chill. He reached out to stop her, but it was too late. With all the strength she could muster, she flung the ward as hard as she could out onto the pitch-black gardens, disappearing from sight as it descended. She ripped herself from his grasp and stepped close to him, her chest nearly brushing up against his.

“You can keep your sacrifices! I have never needed your money or your comforts. I have never wanted or needed your protection and sure as hell don’t need _you_ ,” she said darkly, with a heart on fire, trying to catch his eyes so as to clearly make her point to him, but he averted his gaze, staring out into the distance below the balcony. Years of rage swelling up in the moment, she awaited an equally ireful response from him, ready like an animal straining at the end of its leash.

When he finally looked at her, his face partially shadowed in darkness, her fury fled, leaving in its stead a hole filled with unendurable guilt; The weight of which threatened to crush her where he stood. For there was no anger in his eyes, no tension in his blank face. There was only visceral heartbreak and lonely hurt. He was irrevocably crushed, or so his countenance seemed to express, and it was her fault.

“Draco—” she started weakly, but he turned from her without a word. She lunged to grab his arm, but he only swiftly pulled from her touch and walked to the door, shutting it with a small slam behind him as he made his exit. She was left out in the cold, paralyzed for a moment, trying to process the emotional magnitude of what she’d done. She dared not go after him, her instincts to save face, nurtured from a young age, striking fear in her of what would happen if any of the other Death Eaters, or Draco’s parents, caught a hint of discord between them.

She stepped back into the room and shut the balcony doors, breathing heavily and on the verge of full out despair induced panic. It was all she could do but to sit, trembling on the sofa, gripping her now naked wrist and sob. It was a lie, what she told him. She despised depending on him, she felt sick at having to give up what remained of her pride and identity for the sake of making their marriage appear as cordial, even happy, as possible. But it would be plain to anyone, most of all her, that she could not do any of this alone. For she was not so brave and certainly not that strong, she knew.

She awoke in the morning after a restless and uncomfortable sleep, aching from having passed out in an awkward position on the sofa, and looked around the partially destroyed room. She got herself slowly to her feet and moved first to the bed, magically repairing it to its former state after some fiddling with repairing charms, which she had never been very good at. She went to the still opened wardrobe, the tattered garments still spilling out on the floor from the night before. She made work repairing each one to be as good as new, as far as she could tell anyway.

She pulled a mess of white fabric from the back as she was finishing up, thick and finely made, but with horror realized what it was. She reached into the wardrobe, pulling out the top half and her heart skipped a beat to hold the two halves of her wedding attire, one in each hand. She laid the pieces on the bed and cursed through a few more tears. She hated that dress, to be sure, and the humiliation of that awful day, but something about seeing it torn apart by her hand crushed her. Valeria managed to fix it, exhaling a sigh of relief, though she was unsure about some of her handiwork. She ran her hand along the fabric, feeling a cocktail of mixed emotions.

An owl rapped on the window and it was a bird she knew well. She retrieved the letter it carried and put the wedding garb away, tucked far into the back and out of plain sight. She opened the letter addressed to her, having a seat on the edge of the bed.

_Valeria,_

_Why didn’t you come sit with us on the train? What all happened? Did Draco do something? Please write to me as soon as possible, there are things I want to talk to you about and we’re worried._

_Daphne_

Daphne was dangerously close to crossing the line as to what was safe to put in a letter, but Valeria knew her friend would not relent if she ignored it. Valeria scribbled a hasty apology and an assurance that she was just fine, promising to write back again soon and had it prepared to be sent. Draco did not return all morning or afternoon and it didn’t seem he returned late in the night after she fell asleep either. Valeria considered going to find him, but didn’t know what she would say to him, even if they could find a private moment together. Her afternoon meal magically appeared on the table, as opposed to her being called down to join the rest of the Malfoys to eat.

The hours crept on and her anxieties came and went in waves. Perhaps she was being punished again, somehow or maybe Draco just despised her now along with nearly everyone else. Her mind whirled with wild irrationalities about what she feared would befall her if anyone found out the secret truths within their marriage, how she had lost her mind for a moment or just how deeply she hated her circumstances. She tried to occupy herself, fixing her appearance after a short nap that somehow only left her more tired, but to no satisfaction. She took the air on the balcony again in the early evening, feeling stifled and trapped, looking over the grounds. It was not long before she remembered, kicking herself for her stupidity, her naked wrist and the ward somewhere in the garden below.

She swiftly pulled out an outdoor cloak and dressed herself appropriately before fleeing the confines of her chamber and rushing down the stairs to the doors at the edge of the back gardens. Blanketed in pristine, unviolated, snow she marched along to find the patch of area where she believed the ward might have fallen.

 _Accio, ward_ , she cast in her mind, but nothing came. She tried various iterations of the summoning charm; _Bracelet, jewelry,_ and any other possibility that could make sense to no avail. “Fuck,” she said under her breath, remembering how that some objects enchanted with more complex or older forms of magic sometimes don’t respond to the charm and resolving to hunt it down herself.

The fresh snow made the job nigh on impossible, but she trudged on, even as the winter sun descended and night was on the rise. She illuminated the tip of her wand for assistance, but it was still a frustratingly futile search as she raced against the fleetingness of winter light. As darkness descended over the grounds of Malfoy Manor, she gave up her search, but was determined to try once more at dawn. Valeria made her way back to doors of the Manor, but lost nearly lost her footing as the sole of her shoe came down on something hard under the snow. Valeria squatted down and brushed away the snow to be met with shining silver that glistened in the light of her wand.

Valeria sighed with great relief as she took it in hand and wiped it clean on her cloak before slipping the bitingly cold metal onto her wrist. She felt the metal serpent coil around her wrist to a comfortable position. It was bittersweet as she was so grateful to have found it, but her heart sunk to know that she had yet to see or hear from Draco. She quietly made her way back into the Manor, dried herself off with magic and slowly started the journey back up to the room. The halls were eerily empty, as if the entire house had been frozen in time. She did not know whether to feel relieved or nervous about not seeing any of the Death Eaters or other followers going about the Dark Lord’s business.

A small shriek erupted just below her as she collided with something, or someone, and she yelped out for fear, having been so tense and on edge. She looked down after regaining her footing to see Tinky, the Malfoy’s replacement house elf that Valeria hardly seen, getting up off the floor after she had inadvertently knocked him over.

“I’m sorry,” Valeria said awkwardly. “I wasn’t watching where I was walking.”

“The fault is here, Mrs. Malfoy…Tinky should have announced his presence but was so focused on cleaning the portrait frames as Mistress asked,” the house elf said with a nervous stutter.

A thought occurred to Valeria suddenly. “Do you know where Draco is?”

“He didn’t want his dinner, madam…Tinky last saw Mr. Malfoy in the ballroom,” he said.

“The ballroom?” she said, confused. “Why’s he there? Is he alone?”

Tinky clammed up. “T—Tinky didn’t ask why, madam, but he was by himself, yes…”

“Thank you,” Valeria said, short, not waiting for the house elf’s response before setting off to the ballroom, which fortunately was on the same floor, but at the other end of the Manor. She nearly turned back a few times, wondering if it would be best to wait for Draco to come to her. But it had been so long since she had seen him and the uncertainty of waiting was budging upon becoming unbearable.

She stopped just before the great ballroom doors, almost turning back once again. There was sound from within, no voices or movement. There was only a dim light peeking out from the bottom of the door. She concluded that knocking was the best way to go about this, as opposed to barging in unannounced. She removed her gloves and knocked on the door, heart pounding in turn.

“…Yes?” Draco’s muffled, quiet voice came after a moment. With a near shaking hand, she twisted the knob on one of the doors and let herself in, gently pushing the door open. She stuck her head in and peered around the vast, but eerily empty room, and found Draco sitting on a piano bench off in the corner. He looked up at her and then away as he stood with his hands in the pockets of his clothes. Valeria crossed the room to him, the heels of her shoes clacking against the smooth hardwood. The room was lit by wall lanterns, though not brightly.

“How long have you been here?” Valeria asked, even the softness with which she spoke echoed like a bellow in the deafly silent room. He looked up at her with a forlorn, tired look, the hurt returning as their eyes met.

“A while,” he said with a small shrug. “I figured you didn’t want to see me anyway.”

She stepped closer to him, holding back her tears. “That’s not true.” She reached slowly toward him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Draco, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.”

He swallowed. “You were right. About me, about everything.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she insisted. “I know you. I know you don’t want any of this and I know you wouldn’t do what you’ve done if you didn’t have to.”

He shrugged slightly as if unconvinced. “I don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do anymore.”

“You’ve done what you can, just as you said,” she said. She showed him her right wrist, the ward on fully display, nearly shimmering in the flickering light. “I found it. I must have spent hours looking for it.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” she said. He curled his lip inward and took her hand gently his, running his fingers softly on the ward’s metal.

“I’m sorry for everything I said. I’m sorry about Lovegood and what happened on the train. I should have—”

“She’s safe, isn’t she?”

“As safe as she can be in the cellar. No one has an interest in her beyond just holding her there,” he said.

“Then it’s alright for now,” she replied.

“You don’t believe that.”

“I have to try to.”

He inhaled deeply. “I know I’m not the man you want me to be. I’m not the one you deserve, even. Believe me, if it wouldn’t end up with getting you killed, I’d give anything to be that man.”

“Then you’re exactly the one I need now,” she told him, barely above a whisper.

“I’m not sure that’ll be enough,” he whispered.

“It’s going to have to be.”

“We were bound to be at each other’s throats eventually. I should be surprised it took this long,” he said.

She reached up to him, carefully directing his face to look at her with a touch of her hand. “This can’t fall apart. Not now. I promised to keep you alive, no matter the cost, and I will make good on that, damn the rest.” He nodded, barely noticeable, acknowledging the same promise he made to her.

“Would we even be…together if it weren’t for, y’know…?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. It was an impossible question, one they would never know the answer to. Things were swirling in her heart that confounded her. Were they only this close because of their circumstances? Did he feel like the closest thing to safety only because he was so familiar? Were they just too dependent on each other to see things differently? Was there ever at all a difference? Did it even matter? “It’s too hard to tell what’s real or right anymore, but I don’t care.”

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him, taking him close and inhaling his familiar scent, one that, to her surprise, stirred within her a certain middling comfort that her aching heart latched onto and refused to let go of. Slowly, he returned the embrace, taking her in tighter and closer, resting his head lightly on top of hers. His arm reached around her back and grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it gently as if to remind her that he was still there and perhaps that he always would be. They stood like that for a moment, as Valeria allowed herself to cling to him and cry a few silent tears against his chest, letting him shake off a little weight of the world onto her. The feeling, that had been so nostalgic, so fleeting, of never wanting to move from this spot, from this moment, overwhelmed her frail emotional faculties.

“We got married in this room,” he quietly observed. She let out a little laugh.

“I completely forgot,” she said.

“Don’t blame you. God, what a shitty day that was,” he said with his familiar bored drawl. She used to hate when he would talk with that tone, remembering that he had spoken like that since she first heard him speak, or at least so she believed. But now she found an odd sort of comfort in it. She had to admit, to herself at least, that she missed his swaggering arrogance of his childhood. The way he acted as though the world would bow before him if he ever so much as asked. Valeria even missed the way he would find the perfect way to aggravate her on any given day. “Would you like to dance?”

She pulled from his embrace a little to raise an eyebrow at him and was a bit stunned, both by his words and the way his own eyes were wet like hers.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I owe you a proper dance,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I was thinking about it earlier…our wedding, I mean. It wasn’t what it should have been. Someone like you deserves that much on her wedding.”

“Nothing was how it should have been that day,” she said. He backed away a step and offered his right hand forward.

“Just let me try. May I have a dance?” he asked. She let out a small laugh through a mildly suspicious smirk and put her hand in his. He pulled his wand out with his other hand.

“Let’s see if I can get this right” he said, charming the nearby piano and it began to play on its own a soft, slow melody of a haunting song that she recognized but could not place. He stepped toward her and brought her close again, taking up her right hand with his and took her waist in his left. She obliged by setting her own hand comfortably on his left shoulder and drawing closer to him, their bodies meeting.

“Can you lead?” she asked. He said nothing but began to move in time with the music. He led simply; turning once, step, step, turn again and she followed his lead with ease.

“You’re rigid,” he observed.

“Haven’t done this in a while,” she said. She had missed dancing enormously. She had never felt freer than when she moved to song and was, for most of her life, quite proud of how well she took to the skill. Perhaps it was the nerves that made her less graceful than she would have liked; But why was she nervous?

“Relax. Don’t you trust me?” he said, he stepped back and spun her slowly when the music swelled which made her laugh. He spun her back to him and resumed the steps.

“Draco Malfoy the dancing romantic. Never thought I’d live to see that,” she said.

“Maybe there are still some things you don’t know about me, Winters,” he said.

“Malfoy,” she corrected.

“Winters,” he insisted. “Just for now. Just between us.”

“What else don’t I know about you then?” she asked after a moment of silence between them.

“Remember our first dance? The Yule Ball, I mean. I’m still embarrassed about it,” she asked.

“You did fine.”

“Not like you though. I was too nervous.”

“Nervous? You pranced around the whole evening like a bloody peacock,” she said as they turned.

“I was trying to show off, you know that. I’m surprised you put up with me as long as you did that night,” he said.

“My mother always said a lady does not abandon her date,” Valeria said.

“Remind me to send her my thanks,” he said. “Is that why?”

“Not completely,” she admitted with a smirk and a small shrug.

“I told you my mother put me up to asking you, but that never happened. She didn’t even suggest it. I just…wanted to take you but was afraid you’d say no. Did I already tell you that?” he said.

“Maybe, but I like this story,” she said with a laugh.

“I was nervous, give a man a break,” he said in reply to her laughter.

“It was stupid,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re right. I got to go with the prettiest girl in school and I didn’t even appreciate it. Tried to hide it.”

“You’re flattering,” she said.

“It’s the truth. Still is.”

She blushed, a buzzing and floating feeling filled her that confounded her senses. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“I knew it was you who got me that songbook second year,” she said.

He laughed. “And you never thanked me. Where are your manners, Winters?” he said sarcastically.

“I didn’t because you were insufferable, and I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction, or worse, be in your debt. Besides, I gave you extra of both my Christmas _and_ birthday treats that year. Means we’re even,” she defended.

“Whatever you say. I don’t think I noticed,” he said.

“Good.”

They danced quietly for a while, the melody repeating on and on fluidly and without end, it seemed. Valeria could have danced forever. The Yule Ball was different and even their first dance as married people was a far cry from this. They barely touched at the Yule Ball, maintaining a chaste distance between their bodies. There was more energy, more complex steps and performing them well was, at the time, more important than the simple pleasure of dancing together. Though she did recall enjoying the twirling, the lifting and the magical atmosphere the evening had. But she would gladly trade that for this, especially after their mechanical, empty wedding dance. This was perfect; A slow, simple dance in a dim room, dead to the world and alone.

Still, there was something not unlike dancing with a ghost. He was paler and gaunt than he was fourth year, almost sickly looking in some ways despite the faint glimmer of life deep behind his eyes. They danced on a thin line, a precipice with doom on one side and a brutal future on the other. But Valeria didn’t want this to end and if she could have willed to piano to play for all time and only stopped when they dropped dead from dancing, she would have without a second thought.

For Draco, it was bittersweet. In another time, they would have been the most powerful family in the wizarding world; just the two of them alone. He had gotten everything he ever wanted for years; He followed his father’s footsteps, the girl he had pined after to disastrous results for years, Potter was on the run and powerless and he had a chance to make a name on his own; to prove his value with his own intellect and determination. He had it all, in the worst way he could possibly imagine, and he despised all of it, save for the girl, whose thinning frame he now held so close. She was here, wanting to be around him just as much as he wanted her, perhaps needing him as she claimed. But it was all wrong. She was in his arms by force, otherwise she would have been long gone, far away from his touch. He wanted to be a man, the one he, delusional, always imagined himself to be and now he was the one with the responsibility of her life thrust upon him. It was all he could do not to cling for her and beg for mercy like a misbehaving child. It was so much. Too much. Dark, lonely, violent, cruel. It wasn’t in him and he was ashamed, but he couldn’t contain it a second longer.

He leaned back and looked down at her before leaning back in, bringing his lips to hers and she accepted. Their dancing all but stopped as they held onto each other, desperately, together once again as they had been hundreds of times before. But this felt different, realer, deeper. He quickly pulled away and took the sides of her face in his hands.

“I love you,” he blurted out, clumsily and stupidly like he had been unexpectedly called upon to answer a question in a lesson he had paid no attention to. She looked up, nearly agape at the suddenness of his confession, at him and he was intense, unrelenting, tall and so very hard to read. Humiliation washed over him. “I have for a while. I think I have. I don’t know. I’m in love with you.”

He brought his lips to hers again and she still permitted him to do so, to his relief. She was so swept up in disbelief that she didn’t know what to do, but she knew she wanted this. She wanted him and him alone; That was enough. She would make it be enough.

“Draco, I—” she said, parting from him briefly one to be met with another kiss to stop her speech.

“Just…please, don’t say anything for now. Let me have this,” he said. Though his request was a bit of a demand, he asked it quietly and almost kindly. There were no combatting thoughts against it, she was more than happy to oblige.

“Stop,” he said at the door of their chamber when they finally decided to meander back late in the evening. She raised an eyebrow at him as he pushed the door open and nearly let out a small, surprised cry as he crouched over and unexpectedly lifted her off of her feet bridal style.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked in a loud whisper, stifling a laugh.

“I didn’t carry you over the threshold. I heard it was traditional or something,” he said as he carried her through the door and kicked it shut behind them.

“You’re being stupid,” she joked.

“You’re being hard to please,” he said as he gently set her down inside and without much pause, they were up against each other again, neither wanting to give up what semblance of joy or adolescent nonsense they had and resolved to milk it for all it was worth. They stumbled with each other, without thought or discussion, over to the recently repaired bed and maneuvered themselves onto it. Valeria realized shortly after how different this felt. He had been on top over her before, particularly and dangerously on the sofa of the Slytherin common room, but never had they been like this on a bed. Draco must have sensed something, because he stopped and lifted his head up to look at her.

“I’m sorry. I got…carried away,” he said genuinely, blushing more than she had ever seen from him, even in the soft light of the room. Looking at him, his sharp features, the way his fine hair fell just near his eyes and even being a bit too lanky and tall to be considered stereotypically handsome, she found to be just that all the same.

“No, it’s alright,” she said. She thought for a moment, heart racing. “We can…you know, if you want to…”

He looked away for shame or nerves, she guessed. “Valeria…no. You don’t have to—”

“I know. I want to.”

He sighed as he considered, certainly at war with his urges and his complex feelings about their circumstances. “Are you sure?” She nodded. “You’ll stop me if you don’t…” She nodded again. “You have to promise me that you want this, otherwise I won’t.”

“I want to try.”

He reached up to her face tentatively, as if he would break her like glass should he brush her skin with his finger too hard and moved some of her hair out of her face. She instinctively inhaled as he touched her face with trembling tenderness before he leaned in slowly to kiss her again for the millionth time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I grappled with this one, but I figured these two needed a break after all I've put them through so far. Thank you all for sticking with me this long and for all the lovely comments/kudos (at time of writing, this at 69 kudos and I laughed, which is very immature of me.) Also just noticed this one broke 1000+ hits, which is wild. Thanks to everyone who clicked on this, whether it was to your liking or not. I posted this series for funzies and never expected it to even get half that much attention. As always, stay well, stay safe.


	24. A Very Malfoy Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mild sexual content ahead.

_"No one's gonna save us. You know that," she told him._

_"Doesn't mean I can't do something for you," he replied._

_*****_

“What are you reading now?” Harry asked Hermione who hunched over an old, leather-bound book beside her stack of books stolen from the Winters’ castle.

“A collection of old Welsh folktales, magical ones. Harry, I think Valeria was right,” she said.

“About what?”

“Remember what I told you? That she heard some story about some wizard long ago who managed to split his soul three times? This is the story, look,” she said, passing him the book. Harry flipped through the old pages carefully. The book smelled of age and dust which made Harry recoil a little, though Hermione claimed to adore the scent, a claim he never fully understood. “Valeria said it was a scary story her brother told her, that the old wizard is still out just waiting to come back.”

“That’s interesting, Hermione, but I don’t see how a ghost story to scare kids is at all helpful,” he said, the journey wearing on him.

“Did you read any of that?!” she said, frustrated and yanking the book from him. She flipped to another page and pointed her finger at the top of a paragraph near the end of one the stories. “In this version he was defeated! The village witch destroyed all the objects he stored his soul in; a candle, a sheep’s skull and lastly a single blade of grass.”

“So?”

“ _So_ that means that it _is_ possible; If we destroy the horcruxes, we can destroy You-Know-Who!” Hermione said. Harry considered; While it was a comforting thought, it didn’t aid them in finding Voldemort’s horcruxes themselves.

“Does the book say how the witch destroyed them?” he asked.

“Not really,” Hermione started, flipping back through the book. “She destroyed the candle with a ‘loving sacrifice,’ but there’s no details on what that means. The skull was destroyed with the talon or claw of some kind of dark creature, but the name is written in really old Welsh and wasn’t translated, if a translation even exists or if the animal is real. The third was a ‘great, cursed fire to scourge the dark wizard’s home and fields,’ but again, it’s not specific. To me, it sort of sounds like fiendfyre, but I can’t be sure.”

“So we got nothing,” Harry said with a sigh.

“No. We know it’s possible, for absolute certain.”

At the Burrow, the darkest Christmas in living memory loomed over the Weasley family. Molly and Arthur had been trying to coax details about Hogwarts out of Ginny, but sensed there was much she would dare not speak of, or at least didn’t want to risk. Molly desperately wanted at stop to the Lovegood home just beyond the hill to bring Luna’s father a hot meal, or better yet, invite him to join them, but Arthur managed to convince her it was a terrible idea.

“There’s too much heat on him, Molly,” Arthur said. She was sad to admit that he was right.

“I should have done something…for Luna,” Ginny said, thinking aloud.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Arthur said reassuringly. “It was the wise choice to not get in their way.”

“But I could have stopped her from talking to Valeria! I told Luna she was dangerous, that she wasn’t on our side anymore, but she didn’t listen,” Ginny said.

“What are you talking about?” Molly asked, putting a comforting hand on her daughter’s hand.

“She’s a monster, mum. She tortured Neville in Dark Arts class, she put others in detention and she’s constantly hanging on Malfoy and he was waiting down the aisle to hex Luna when Valeria asked to talk to her on the train!” Ginny said.

“Ginny, Valeria’s in a very terrible situation. I doubt she would have done those things unless she had absolutely no choice,” Arthur said.

“You heard her brother’s letter. I don’t know how anyone can turn to their side after getting a letter like that,” Molly said.

“She acts like she has no idea that happened. She was just using us the entire time; How do you not see that?”

“She doesn’t remember?” Arthur asked, as if asking for clarification.

“She claims not to,” Ginny said. “And she’s made her stance perfectly clear.”

“She’s married to a Death Eater. She can’t go around being publicly sympathetic to any of us, you know that,” Arthur said.

“She tried to kill me!” Ginny burst out, on the verge of tears remembering the intensity of Valeria’s cold eyes while she nearly clawed at her own throat.

“What are you talking about?” Molly asked. In a rare moment of visible vulnerability, Ginny broke. She hadn’t wanted her parents to worry about her at school; they were worried enough each minute of each day as it was. But she was still a girl, crumbling under the pain and anxiety of her own fears and traumas. She recounted to her parents what happened the night Valeria nearly killed her to their stunned abject horror.

But Valeria woke up to extreme quiet in her extravagant room in Malfoy Manor the morning following the night where she and Draco set aside their differences after their eruptive fight. Getting her bearings, still somewhat used to waking each morning to the gentle whooshing of the Black Lake at school, she recalled what she and Draco had done and didn’t quite know what to make of it. She took a mental inventory of her feelings, physical and otherwise, and quickly concluded that she didn’t feel at all different.

She hadn’t spent much time in her short life thinking of what it would be like to _be_ with a man, especially the first time. Her mother had made it all sound very simple and mechanical. Beyond some cringe-worthy discussions with her girlfriends, which usually ended in naughty snickering, she never took too much time to dwell and what it would be like or with whom it would be. Her mother had been partially right; There was something simple about the deed in a primal, base sort of way. It was uncomfortable at points, but not outright painful, and full of awkward stop-and-go’s; Repositioning, adjusting and the like. There was no singular moment of pure ecstasy, but nor was there any uncertainty on her part. Despite some needed practice from both parties, it felt oddly right.

In truth, she supposed, nothing had changed. The wizarding community likely already assumed the marriage had long since been properly consummated, but she didn’t feel remotely changed. Though she supposed that, in a way, she was properly married now, she still did not feel that way in her heart.

“Morning,” she heard Draco say after he cleared his throat. She sat up, covering herself with the covers, to see him already dressed, a cup in hand toward the middle of the room. “Breakfast has been sent up, if you’re interested.”

“We haven’t had a meal with your parents yet,” she said.

He shrugged. “I told them we’ll wait. Mother wants to see us after lunch, something about a Christmas gift, I don’t know. We’ll see them at dinner. Father’s busy anyway and I’d rather spend as much time as I can in here with you.” Valeria nodded and reached for her robe on a rack near the bed and Draco averted his gaze gentlemanly as if he had not seen her in such a state mere hours ago. She joined him, sitting opposite him, and poured herself some tea. “You…alright?”

“Just fine,” she said. “Yourself?”

“Fine…Good,” he said. He curled his lip inward as he collected the words he wanted to say next. “I, uh, don’t really know what came over me—erm—us, I guess, last night. You’re sure you were, are, totally fine—”

“I can make my own decisions about that, Draco, it was my idea, remember? It wasn’t exactly what I expected, but I’m sure with time it’ll get…better,” she said.

“We could always try it again,” he said. She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked at his expense and his cheeks turned pink while he shifted in his seat. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that—”

She laughed a little, interrupting him, and he shook his head, unable to help himself but to laugh a little too. “So it was alright? It was alright for you?”

“I’d say so,” she said. “Though the smells and mess of the…aftermath will take some getting used to…” she said honestly, and as delicately as she could.

He blushed again. “Right…uh, sorry. I’m glad you don’t regret it. I don’t either. I think that was only of the only things I don’t regret in all this.”

“Likewise,” she said, to his relief. She reached down for a breakfast pastry but stopped short noticing a gilded frame containing a photograph. She grabbed it instead and was met with the image of Draco and herself in one of their posed pictures from their wedding, the very one she had seen on posters in Diagon Alley a week later. Its addition to their chamber had to have been part of Narcissa’s redecorating scheme, she figured. Draco leaned over and glanced at the photograph too, sitting back with a small sigh after he saw.

“Sorry. You know how my mother can be,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Valeria said, still looking at the picture. She was shocked with how dead in the eyes she looked, so very much like a porcelain doll with all its eerie perfection coupled with all its lifelessness. It was something uncanny, obviously herself and yet so far from how she saw herself. Draco’s stern expression was the most he could do to avoid a scowl, it seemed. His picture stared at her with furious intensity and she could feel the tension radiate from his likeness. “Should start getting used to it at this point, no matter how…odd it is.”

“Putting it mildly,” he said with a scoff. There was a moment of knowing silence that passed between them that neither acknowledged, neither eager to rehash it all again. “You were beautiful that day.” Valeria hadn’t expected that and met his gaze. “I had never seen you look so…like that.”

“You looked nice yourself. Too bad it was wasted on that day,” she said.

“Not completely,” he said before a brief pause. “If you want other pictures, you can do whatever you want in here. If you wanted some of your family or something, I mean.”

“I don’t have any…only the one,” Valeria said absentmindedly, placing the frame back on the table.

“We’ll get some from your castle as soon as we can,” he said. “Which one do you mean?”

Valeria recalled the photograph of Konstantin and Jane locked away deep in her luggage and her stomach lurched to remember it, regretting having brought it up. She had hardly thought of it in all the chaos of the recent months and she had preferred it that way. She could hardly bear to think on it, let alone look at it.

“I don’t know if it’s safe to say,” she said.

“We’re as safe as we can be for now. The Dark Lord’s not going to come in here demanding your family photographs. You can tell me,” he said honestly. She slowly stood and went to rifle through her things. She had tucked it in between the folds of Konstantin’s final letter and with hesitation handed the photograph to Draco.

“Is that that woman…?” he asked.

“Her name was Jane,” she reminded him and he nodded as he himself remembered what happened that night Valeria was introduced to the Dark Lord in the flesh. Draco lingered long on the picture and in a rare moment, Valeria found his reaction hard to read. “You alright?”

“He looks happy. They look like how we used to,” he said, quietly drifting off. “You never told me the whole story...with them.”

“Never saw the point, they’re both dead,” she said. It was true, there wasn’t a point going over her brother’s tragedy again. He looked up at her and nodded to the parchment in her hand.

“What’s that?”

“Konstantin’s last letter.”

“Can I read it?”

“No.”

“Why?” he asked, a bit offended.

“I mean you literally can’t. It’s enchanted. The words only appear to me,” she said.

“Read it to me then,” he said.

“I don’t know if that’s a good—”

“I know he was your brother, but I liked him too,” Draco said. “I’d like to know, if you’d let me.”

Valeria read his expression and found him sincere. She hesitantly unfolded the parchment with a shaking hand. “I’ll warn you, I don’t think he thought that highly of you when he wrote it.”

“Should have probably seen that coming,” he said with a sigh. She read the letter to him, slowly and carefully, having not so much as looked at it in months. She teared up as she read it, missing him desperately, regretting so very deeply her childhood ignorance. Draco listened intently, digesting every word she said. They burdened him, hearing so much of himself and his own struggles in the dead man’s voice and it made him afraid. They sat in silence for a moment when she had finished, and she carefully folded the parchment away.

“He was good,” Draco said in a whisper.

They slowly went back to normal and Draco agreed she should keep Konstantin’s picture and his words hidden for the time being. Draco fell asleep on the sofa after breakfast and Valeria panicked when she remembered Christmas was only two days off. She went through Draco’s luggage to retrieve the catalogues his mother had sent them and set to work choosing gifts and trying to get all the orders mailed with rush requests with handsome sums. She didn’t know if it would work, what with the raging war, but she had to try. Draco didn’t awake until lunch which had been kindly and magically sent up to them again. He ate quickly and then took time to properly wash up, which Valeria had done herself while he napped.

“Mother wants us to look our best, so we need to wear dress robes,” he said. She scoffed.

“For what? We going somewhere?” she asked.

“Just down to the parlor as far as I know. I don’t like it either, but best do as she says. She’s been looking forward to it,” he said, going to his own wardrobe. She complied without complaint, fortunately quite used to dressing more formally outside of school anyway. She settled on the nicest set of robes in the wardrobe which were well fitted, long, high-collared and all black. She fixed her face and hair with speed and ease.

“Fix your hair. Did your parents teach you nothing?” she joked to Draco when she turned to see him straightening out his robes in a mirror.

“I hardly remember the spells,” he said haughtily, and Valeria stepped to him, tapping her wand on his head, perhaps a tad harder than she needed to, and his fine white-blond hair settled neatly into place.

“You didn’t have to whack me,” he said.

“Don’t question my methods, I’m the expert here. We should get going,” she said. He nodded without further argument and led the way from the chamber down the many halls and stairs to the parlor. They entered to find Narcissa arranging a chair in place and sternly spouting orders at a nervous looking man standing before an absurdly large canvas, held upright and in-place by magical means, with an assortment of paints, brushes and other such supplies.

“Ah, there you are, perfect timing,” Narcissa said, her mood changing and smiling to see them. “This is Ardoin von Straussburg, one of the most celebrated portrait painters on the continent.”

The older man approached them and first shook Draco’s hand and tipped his hat to Valeria. “A pleasure, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.”

“So this what you’ve planning?” Draco asked his mother with a little smirk.

“Yes, and you’d do well to take this seriously for the sake of tradition. Let’s get started,” she said. Narcissa led Valeria to the ornate, high backed and cushioned chair, situated at a slight angle, she had set before the backside of the canvas, facing the artist. “Valeria, we’ll have you sit here.” Valeria obeyed with complaint and Narcissa led her son over by the shoulders, putting him in position. “Draco, you’ll stand just behind, here with your left hand on her shoulder.”

“Why do I have to stand?” he asked, annoyed.

“Because she is the lady. Now hold still, let me look,” Narcissa said, stepping back, looking them over. She turned to Ardoin. “Is this suitable?”

He nodded. “Yes, supremely elegant as ever, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“I agree. I have some things to attend to and so I’ll leave you to it. Do call if you need anything,” she said before dismissing herself and leaving the parlor. Ardoin made a few more minor adjustments as to their posture.

“Now hold as still as you can,” he said, stepping back to stand before his canvas. With a wave of his wand, his brushes and paints set to work at his direction while Valeria held still and stiff, feeling Draco’s hand squeeze gently down on her shoulder every so often. She had sat for portraits a couple times before, with her family, and was well aware of the traditional value of having family paintings in one’s home. She had yet to think about the possibility of this, having been so preoccupied otherwise, but it made sense and was really only a matter of time, even if it was a bit hasty.

Hours must have passed. For all the magical and mysterious talents of such artists, she had forgotten just how long the process took to create a fully realized magical portrait. She could feel Draco shift his weight and sigh every few minutes and could easily sense his own annoyance with all this. She did her best to ignore it, not wanting to move and risk making the process take even longer.

It seemed that, without her knowing it, each passing day had made them more and more of a married couple. Perhaps they were playing their part too well, perhaps it was out of necessity, or maybe even want for something more. The portrait would be yet another symbol of their union and its permanence to be hung prominently in Malfoy Manor for all who entered to see. Just one more generation in the once storied lineages of Winters and Malfoy, permanently captured in their youth that would watch over them for years to come.

Narcissa reentered some time later after a polite knock so as not to disturb the artist. She approached the canvas and looked at the results with a critical eye, allowing Valeria and Draco to stretch and relax. Valeria hoped it was to her liking and watched her mother-in-law anxiously.

“Yes, fine work,” Narcissa said. “How long will it take to finish?”

“The enchantments need a day or so to set it in,” Ardoin said.

“Can you have it finished and delivered by Christmas morning?”

“Indeed. Not that many commissions of late and I can surely prioritize it.”

“Excellent. Thank you for your work. Draco, Valeria, you can go get ready for dinner.”

“We don’t even get to see it after all that time?” Draco protested, but Narcissa held up her hand.

“I want the final result to be a surprise. Now go on, both of you.”

Dinner, and subsequent meals with the elder Malfoys over the following days, had been more awkward then before. Having spent more time with Lucius at mealtimes, the degree to which he was growing more desperate and unraveled was abundantly clear. Narcissa snapped at him more at some of his remarks, as he would often break her one rule; No war-talk at the table. Valeria spent her spare time wrapping, addressing and sending out gifts as they arrived often whilst Draco was called away by his father. This was one of the distractions she indulged in to avoid thinking about the war, about Hogwarts or how Luna was imprisoned just a few floors below. The other primary distraction she welcomed was the newfound physical intimacy with Draco in the late hours of the night, which Draco also welcomed.

Christmas morning had started late, but was, according to Lucius one of the calmer days at Malfoy Manor in terms of the war. Though he was visibly stressed and exhausted, he seemed in better spirits that morning, though Valeria was sure his opening a bottle of brandy as the day began was partially responsible. Upon entering the drawing room after the morning meal, Valeria saw gifts around a large pine tree off in the corner of the room. It was the only Christmas décor she had seen in the entire Manor so far, remembering past holiday visits with the Malfoys when Narcissa had expertly and meticulously decorated the entire home.

It began with the four of them exchanging gifts. There wasn’t much special or out of the ordinary; Jewelry for Narcissa from Lucius, a new winter cloak for Lucius from Narcissa for example. Draco received a monogram quill and parchment set from his parents, complete with personalized letterheads and Valeria received the same with her own monogram. 

“This is from your mother,” Narcissa said, handing her a gift. Valeria nearly turned red. She had completely forgotten to send her mother something in all the chaos and distance. Valeria tore through the gift to find more jars and bottles of liquids and salves for glamours. Her heart sunk. Not even in at Christmas, in these darkest of times, could her mother ever try anything different. Without much reaction, she set it aside, promising to write a thank you note later for etiquette’s sake. Draco seemed to notice her disheartened reaction and handed her his own gift in response. Valeria found within a fine new cloak, thick and soft to the touch.

“It’s enchanted. It can warm itself a little and will stay dry no matter how wet or snowy the weather is,” Draco explained. She had complained of the cold while strolling through the gardens, as they did once in a while, of late and she placed a kiss in on his cheek in gratitude of his thoughtfulness, which never ceased to surprise her when it happened. Draco was equally grateful for her gift to him, a book on Alchemy she ordered after seeing his interest in the subject at school.

Finally, Narcissa called for everyone to follow her out of the room and into the entrance hall downstairs. She had the three of them gather before a portrait covered with a sheet that hung on the wall, beside a portrait of Narcissa and Lucius after they had recently wed. Valeria knew where this was going, it was certainly not a mystery, but Narcissa was quite emotionally invested in this, so Valeria stood beside Draco and indulged Narcissa this kindness. With a small flourish, Narcissa used her wand to vanish away the sheet revealing the portrait Draco and Valeria stood for days before.

If it had not been for the paint strokes, Valeria would have thought it to be a photograph. The skill of the artist was immeasurable. Watching herself move as a portrait was a bit unsettling; The painted image of herself looked at her and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Draco’s image was far more aloof, and both were situated so that the wedding rings on their respective hands were on full display. They both looked so austere for being so young, quite serious and not how one might imagine a newlywed couple to be. Valeria was drawn to her own image, trapped inside a frame, doomed to hold one posture, one face forever. She could not help but have a little sympathy and feel a little saddened herself. Narcissa directed them to the small gilded plaque on the bottom of the ornate frame;

 _Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy and Mrs. Valeria Terpsichore Malfoy_

Narcissa awaited their response proudly.

“Thank you, mother. It’s great,” Draco said, trying to sound genuine to please his mother and her efforts, but standing beside him Draco could feel the tension radiate from him. Valeria took a step forward and embraced Narcissa.

“It’s wonderful, thank you,” she said, which Narcissa genuinely appreciated.

“And it will hang on this wall forever as a small part of the Malfoy legacy for all future generations to see…” Lucius said, as though thinking aloud, undoubtedly finding some measure of pride in the display of the Malfoy lineage. The thought of future Malfoy generations made Valeria feel a little, remembering that horrible dream about the boy, with her eyes but otherwise Draco’s spitting image, calling her ‘ _Mother_.’

The day wore on. Valeria received some more gifts from her friends, namely Daphne who sent a new scarf and Tracey who gave a pair of dainty leather gloves that Valeria really liked. Pansy sent a card, though Valeria didn’t blame her for not going beyond that. Narcissa pressed them for post-war honeymoon plans and Draco was of little help in regard to input, so Valeria opted for Iceland, which Narcissa did not particularly understand, but promised to look into planning.

Christmas dinner was the most pleasant part of the day and the part that felt most akin to Christmases past, despite dining with an entirely different family. Locked away in the dining room with a fine meal and fine wine, which Valeria generously partook in, was almost a respite. A little light in the darkest time of year. Even Lucius smiled once in a while.

Perhaps the wine had made Draco and Valeria bolder and marginally happier than usual. Their time alone that night was the best of their recent attempts, their slight inebriation helping them both to relax. It also put Draco to sleep rather quickly after the fact, while Valeria found herself unable to sleep as she sobered, anxiety slowly creeping up in her. She remembered Luna in the cellar, her hand in her classmate’s imprisonment, the pleasant holiday she had while Luna was in the darkness below and finally the dignified portrait of her looming just above Luna’s prison.

She checked the time. It was incredibly late and Draco was sound asleep. She crept out of bed and dressed simply before quietly walking out the door, wand in hand. She cast a charm to muffle the sound of her steps some, and made her way down the corridors and stairs to the cellar. She carefully opened the cellar, having remembered how to get it open from before and creeped down the stairs, her wand’s tip illuminated.

“Lovegood,” she called out in the loudest whisper she could. “Lovegood?!” Following the light, emerging from the pitch black darkness, Luna approached, dirty and looking worse for wear, but alive and largely unscathed, to Valeria’s relief.

“I didn’t think you’d come down here,” Luna said as if Valeria’s presence was a mere curiosity.

“Neither did I.” Valeria admitted. “Not again.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I just had to...had to make sure you were alive,” Valeria said honestly. She would not admit it to Luna’s face that the guilt was eating at her.

“I am,” Luna said almost cheerfully which made Valeria horrendously uncomfortable. Her look turned to a frown. “My father…is he—?”

“He’s fine. As long as he stops publishing problematic things, he’ll be fine and so will you.”

A weight lifted from Luna’s shoulders as she heard the news. “Good. Do you have a plan?”

“Plan?”

“You must have some reason for coming here. I thought, perhaps, you had a plan.”

“There is no plan, Lovegood! How many times have I told you—do I have to tell you—that I cannot help you!” Valeria said harshly.

“Then why are you here?”

“I just wanted to make sure it was true that you’re alive, I told you.”

“This is your house too isn’t it? You must know something—”

“This is the Dark Lord’s headquarters first and Lucius Malfoy’s house second. Trust me when I say, there’s no way out of this. There’s no way out of here. And I certainly wouldn’t try anything if I were you.”

“I just figured since you tricked me that you’d try to fix it. You always have—”

“I was tricked too!” Valeria said defensively, regretting coming down there. “I had nothing to do with what happened to you and I didn’t know—”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply...I know you didn’t know.”

“What?”

“Whenever you’ve known, you always wanted us. I remember what you did with Umbridge.”

Valeria thought for a moment. “That was a long time ago, Lovegood.”

“No, I disagree. It wasn’t that long ago at all.”

The sound of door opening above them, made a shiver run down Valeria’s spine.

“What’s going on down here!?” The voice of Bellatrix Lestrange called out. Valeria panicked.

“Lovegood, I’m sorry—”

“I understand,” Luna said sadly, almost disappointed. Valeria aimed her wand and cast _Stupefy_ on her, just as Bellatrix reached the bottom of the stairs.

“What are you doing here?” Bellatrix demanded, with a slight tone of intrigue in her tone.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lestrange, I couldn’t sleep. I needed to know why _her_ father wrote that article about me,” Valeria lied, gesturing to Luna lying on the cold stone floor. “I lost my temper a little.” Bellatrix studied Valeria’s expression with menacing eyes that made the latter’s blood run cold.

“That’s understandable, dear,” Bellatrix started, mood suddenly shifting. “But you can’t be down here unless ordered too, understand?”

Valeria nodded. “I know it was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Bellatrix put a bony hand on Valeria’s shoulder and turned her around. “Let’s go for a walk, you and me.”

Valeria was terrified. She knew Bellatrix’s reputation, even Draco hardly talked about his own aunt. What made Valeria’s stomach turn most was seeing the very wand that killed her brother in the woman’s hand. Without much of a choice, Valeria followed her out of the cellar and out into the entrance hall, where they stopped before Draco and Valeria’s newly unveiled portrait. Bellatrix was briefly silent.

“You two are a wonderful match, don’t you think?” Bellatrix asked. Valeria nodded.

“I feel very privileged, yes. Draco’s a wonderful husband,” Valeria said.

“Is he now? We’re both women here, dear, you can be honest,” Bellatrix said with a little laugh. Valeria refused to take the bait.

“Thank you, but I’m happy with Draco. I wouldn’t want anything else,” Valeria said.

“Interesting,” Bellatrix said. “I can see why he likes you, why he’s liked you for so long.” Valeria looked at Bellatrix. “Oh, I know all about that, girl. I saw it in his head while training him for his task to kill Dumbledore. Every little crush, thought, even deed he had or did with regard to you.” Valeria stayed silent, processing and reeling with what possibilities such _training_ entailed. “I don’t envy you though. You’ve been saddled with two great pure-blood legacies to carry on and that is no easy task to live up to. Tell me, has Draco done his duty with you?”

Valeria blushed, thankful for the cover of shadow in the dim light to hide it. “He has,” she answered, this time with actual honesety.

“Good. I’m almost surprised,” Bellatrix said in a high voice with a laugh. “I suspected he might cower away from it, after how he botched his task with Dumbledore. But there’s no getting around youthful desires, I suppose. Who knows, maybe by next Christmas there’ll be another Malfoy to celebrate with.”

Valeria concealed a gulp. “It would be an honor to—”

“Don’t patronize me, girl. You sound just like your mother. I see she’s trained you well,” Bellatrix said, another sudden mood shift. Before Valeria could apologize, heart pounding, Bellatrix spoke again. “I don’t care about your honor. The only thing that should matter to you is maintaining your pure bloodlines. This marriage was not a simple reward, nor was it for show, do you understand? You have a duty to do and you would both do well to remember that. You would not want to end up in the same position as your brother, would you?”

Nearly in tears, looking down, Valeria shook her head.

“Good. Maybe there’s hope for the Malfoy family yet. Off to bed. Don’t let me catch you where you’re not supposed to be again.”

Valeria immediately shuffled off and walked as fast as she could without breaking into a run once she was out of Bellatrix’s sight. She shut the chamber door behind her, Draco still fast asleep, she quietly wept to herself leaning against the door. Once she collected herself, calming down in the small sanctuary of the chamber room, she snuck back into bed, curling up close beside Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for sticking with me so far and all the lovely comments/kudos. It means a lot for this silly little venture I've taken on. Stay well, stay safe.


	25. Relief's End

_"Do you think we can make him better than us?" she asked._

_"I don't know. We have to try," he said._

_*****_

The New Year came unceremoniously.

Malfoy Manor was cold and silent that night. Narcissa sat alone, with the curtains drawn and a glass of wine for company. She would look up every few minutes at the stately grandfather clock across the room as if waiting for a pot of water to boil. Still, she felt grateful to have made it this far, but so terrified of the future as she monitored that clock.

Lucius was half asleep, alone too, in his private study, surrounded by symbols of his wealth and former power. His shoulders and knees were sore, and he would shift in the plush, high-backed, chair every so often to find some temporary relief. He had been so tense and hardly ever sat down anymore.

Bellatrix paced her quarters, designing the war she desired in her mind. She was so close to something, she believed. Her mind leapt from one possibility to the next, as if trying to outrun the chance of falling from the Dark Lord’s favor. She played with her wand, the manifestation of her prowess, in her fingers as she paced. She needed to achieve greatness.

Malfoy manor was cold and silent that night.

Save for on the third floor, where the firelight from within the chamber shone through the windows and lit up the dark, snowy night outside for a short distance. This room, unlike all others, was warm and quietly alive.

Draco and Valeria were in the heat of an inebriated relaxation when they kissed as the clock struck midnight. Neither had much discussed the tradition or superstition of the cutesy ritual, but they figured they could use all the luck they could get. The great clock’s foreboding chime was the only reason they knew anything had changed. If they had not been lost in the fog of lazy drunkenness, they might have had half-baked thoughts on the odd nature of the calendar; How one second makes all the difference in one year to the next. How one moment can change so much, and yet everything stays exactly the same.

Valeria had no mental strength for lofty thoughts or amateurish attempts at philosophizing something so banal. She sat against Draco on the sofa, their legs leisurely extended out on it. Her head was against his chest and she realized just how great a comfort the sound of Draco’s heart beating was. Her hand gently tapped on her glass with minute motions of her fingers to the beat of his heart unconsciously. The sound of air filling his lungs, her head slowly bobbing up and down a little with each breath was everything to her now.

“You’re awfully quiet. It makes me nervous,” he observed softly. She could say the same of him, recalling how he had never seemed to understand the volume of his own voice or when it was better to shut his mouth, before all this at least. Yet, she could not tell him he was wrong with any honesty. The looming new year, symbolizing the future they all faced coupled with Bellatrix’s words of malicious warning and the imminent return to Hogwarts, had driven her to retreat to silence. She hadn’t wanted to trouble Draco. Even in moments of relief he was preoccupied, part of him always being somewhere else, though the same could be said of her, so she had no right nor desire to fault him for it. The only time they truly had each other all to themselves, without distraction, seemed to be when they were the most intimate moments and perhaps that was why they did the deed as often as they did. After all, there wasn’t much left to say anymore. Their path was clear.

But she couldn’t shake it. She’d wake up from nightmares, her heart feeling as though it was doing summersaults in her chest, helplessly mired in dread and facing a future that hurdled toward her like a black storm cloud in the midst of an already raging storm. The boy came to her each night, the one who called her _mother_. He had Draco’s pointed features, his height and hair, but he would look at her with her own deep green eyes and eerily perfect, unblemished face, and the Winters smirk that reminded her so much of her brother. Rather than innocuous, worn with a certain kind of subtle sass, the boy’s smirk struck her with fear.

_“I’ve done what father couldn’t, our good names are restored.”_

_“I can see your disapproval, mother, but we all have to do our duties. I, for one, am proud of mine.”_

_“My loyalty lies first with the Dark Lord. The only love that matters is our love for him.”_

So the boy would tell her in her dreams, and she would always be rooted to the spot, unable to speak or move. He wore cruelty casually, as one would wear a scarf on a frigid day. As if such a life was a given, an inevitably to rise to. She knew enough to not put too much stock in dreams, recalling Trelawney’s insistence that a dream in third-year, wherein her teeth fell out, obviously foretold she would suffer some sort of scarring injury that never happened. But the context of this dream, the frequency at which her mind’s creation of her future son came to her, was too much to ignore.

“Tell me what it is. Don’t leave me behind,” Draco said quietly with a little smile. She sat up a little so she could look him in the eyes.

“Have you thought about the future, with us?”

“We’ve been over it a million times,” he said.

“No, I mean…I mean having children…” she said, trying to be delicate, the words leaving a poor taste in her own mouth. Draco’s expression twisted into a disgusted frown and he ran his hand hard through his hair.

“That’s too far off—”

“Shouldn’t we still talk about it anyway?” Valeria argued. “We can’t avoid it forever.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?” he asked. Valeria looked away, and he grew more concerned by her reaction. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She explained to him what happened; How she had gone to see Luna in the dead of night and been discovered by his aunt and the uncomfortable conversation that took place. Draco seemed unsurprised, but absolutely unamused. She apologized for not telling him, but he at least now understood her concerns.

“And that’s why I thought we should at least face reality and talk about it,” she said. He was silent for a moment. Valeria figured he was going to needlessly scold her for going to see Luna, who rang in the new year in the darkness of the cellar below, but he didn’t. His face was grave, almost ill, as his mind raced.

“What’s there to talk about?” he said, defeated. “If we have to, then we’ll have to. Just…just not now. I can’t handle that right now. The last thing I want is to be responsible for a child or to even bring one into a world like this.”

“But the legacy. The whole pureblood mission—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the Malfoy legacy, Val, I thought you would have seen that by now.”

“I’m not asking about what you do or don’t want, I’m asking you about what we’re going to do about what we _have_ to do,” Valeria said. Draco looked away, visibly uncomfortable, borderline angered. This was the last thing he wanted to think about, the last thing he wanted to face as inevitable reality. He could accept being married by force at seventeen, that he would be the Dark Lord’s glorified thrall for the rest of his life, that he would continue to bear witness to cruelty, and even commit more atrocities himself than he already had. But bringing a child into this world, his world, forcing Valeria to be further bound to him than she already was, would evaporate any prayer they had at trying to find some peace in this life.

“And what do you think we should do?” he asked.

“Isn’t that what people do? Talk about how they’re going to start and raise families?” Valeria said.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“Me neither."

Valeria had been brave enough to raise the issue, but did not possess the courage to give words to what they both knew to be true. Their child, whenever they were born and whoever they would be, would have to be raised according to certain standards. They would be raised in accordance with the Dark Lord’s ideologies and that of pureblood supremacy, much like they were to varying degrees, only much more intense. Being the child of a Death Eater, and with more on both sides of this hypothetical offspring’s line, they would be expected to follow in similar footsteps.

If Draco and Valeria were made examples of by way of their marriage and respective positions in the new order, there was no reason to believe the same would not befall their future child. For her part, Valeria knew she could follow her parents’ examples; She could teach her child to be a person who commanded respect, who cherished their reputation and would do anything to maintain it. But that’s where her confidence stopped as she could not fathom motherhood even under joyous circumstances, let alone how not to resent a child she was forced to bear and nurture ideals that she secretly doubted and despised. Her child would know no other world, no other way than this.

Draco had tried so hard to be like his father all his life. Whenever he did succumb to a childish daydream about his future family, he really only saw himself as a copy of Lucius. He imagined himself as a father to be dedicated, distinguished, respected and ultimately in control with a child who admired him the same way Draco had once looked up to Lucius. But having watched his own father be consistently humiliated by the Dark Lord, unravelling at the seams, fighting with people much dumber than him for crumbs of respect and doing absolutely nothing to protect his own son and best friend’s daughter from it all had shattered Draco’s illusions. He knew his father loved him, and he could see in their private meetings the shame and guilt that Lucius bore as a result of his paternal failures. He could not help but resent Lucius and the Malfoy legacy, once a respected name, now used as a punchline amongst other Death Eaters. Draco wanted to believe he could be a better father, a better husband, than Lucius, but he was too self-aware now. He knew that he could not be that man and certainly not anytime soon.

Draco and Valeria had so much to think about, but so little to say and so the conversation was left hanging in the air, looming over them like a dark cloud.

The days passed without much further incident. Narcissa was becoming overbearing again, the inevitable return of her son and daughter-in-law to Hogwarts filling her with anxiety. She demanded much more of their time as a result, which mainly meant having long chats about nothing in the sitting room. The day before their return to Hogwarts, Valeria and Draco were met with a letter from the Headmaster after coming back from a late-morning stroll; one of the only times they got to be alone outside of nighttime.

 _Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,_

_I hope this letter finds you both well and rested after the holiday recess. I write to inform you both that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle have been chosen for Prefect positions in order to replace some of those who have been dismissed. They have been informed of this and the responsibilities that are expected of them. You may come to me or the Professors Carrow with any questions or concerns, but I believe this should come as little surprise and this note should act primarily as a courtesy notice._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Severus Snape_

“Of course they were,” Draco said with an unsurprised sigh after reading the letter. Valeria rolled her eyes.

“Doubt Slughorn had any say in it,” Valeria observed, and Draco agreed. “Should we have a meeting on the train?”

“What for? They’ve basically been doing the prefects’ jobs all year. I don’t think the others will care and if they do, there’s not much they can do about it.”

“Never thought I’d see it with those two…” Valeria said.

“At least they’ll be happy to do most of the dirty work,” Draco said. “They’re dumb, but they’re useful.”

“If you say so.”

Narcissa was reluctant to let go of Draco at Platform 9 ¾ and demanded that he write immediately upon their arrival, or otherwise as soon as possible. Draco assured his mother they would be fine but knew he hadn’t convinced her or himself. Looking around, Narcissa was one of the least emotional parents present. Several of the younger student’s parents wept as their equally distraught children boarded the train. It was a mundanely horrific sight and Valeria already felt overwhelmed before having even stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express.

Valeria was relieved that Draco felt similarly, and they sat in the secluded prefect’s carriage alone for the beginning of the ride. Valeria had hoped to sit there and make the very most of what time alone they had left, but their friends had other plans. As the journey dragged on, Daphne slid the compartment door open with fury, waking Draco suddenly from his nap and wrenching Valeria out of her absent-minded staring out the window.

“There you are,” Daphne said, staring Valeria down. “Come sit with us, we want to talk.”

“We’ll talk later, Daphne, I promise,” Valeria said.

“That’s what you said before Christmas. You don’t look busy either, so let’s go,” Daphne said, folding her arms like a disappointed parent.

“She can sit wherever she wants, Greengrass,” Draco said groggily as he sat up. Daphne whipped her body to face and stared daggers at him.

“You have the rest of your fucking life with her, Malfoy. You won’t miss her for a couple hours on a train ride. Blaise is looking for you too,” Daphne said before turning back to Valeria. “Let’s go.”

Valeria gave a sympathetic look to Draco, who was not happy with Blaise seeking him out, and rose to follow Daphne without further protest. As they walked down the aisles towards the older Slytherin girls’ compartment, Valeria felt the fear and the disdain her peers had for her. They all parted as she passed, ducking into another compartment or plastering themselves against the wall to avoid her. The younger students looked away from her, fear stricken, while many of the older ones wrinkled their noses in disgust as she passed. She had expected this, but it had not made it easier when just a few years ago she got friendly smiles and greetings from nearly everyone she passed on the train.

She was relieved when they had arrived in the girls’ compartment. Tracey leapt up to embrace Valeria while Pansy did her best to give a kind smile and polite greeting. Daphne, on the other hand, remained standing her arms crossed and eyes alight with frustrated fury. Valeria sat by the window as all eyes in the compartment turned on her.

“What the fuck is going on?” Daphne asked, breaking the silence that filled the compartment when no one knew how to start the conversation. Valeria sighed, she could not help it.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Valeria said.

“Let’s start with Lovegood, what was that about?” Daphne said.

“Since when have you cared about Lovegood?” Valeria asked.

“Don’t try that shit with me. We’re you’re goddam friends!” Daphne said. Pansy scolded Daphne to keep her voice down.

“Draco put me up to that. She’s being held so that her father stops with what he’s been writing. She’ll be fine as long as he cooperates,” Valeria explained.

“So that’s it? If our parents do something wrong, _we’ll_ be punished?” Tracey asked.

“No, not you. You’ll be fine as long as you and your families don’t do anything stupid,” Valeria said.

“For now…” Pansy said under her breath.

“So Malfoy manipulates you into doing his dirty work and you still spend all your time with him?” Daphne asked.

“He’s my husband, Daphne.”

“We _know_! You’re always quick to remind us, but that doesn’t mean you have to follow him around and do his bidding all the time. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you _like_ being with him—”

“Good!” Valeria said, standing up to meet Daphne. “That’s how it has to look! In case I haven’t made it clear, I don’t have much of a choice and how much I do or don’t like him doesn’t matter!” She faced the entire group. “None of you have the slightest idea of what pressure he’s under, or even me for that matter. You can think whatever you want of him, I don’t care, but I won’t apologize for doing whatever I have to do to keep us both alive.”

Daphne was silent for a moment. “What about the rest of us?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What Professor Carrow said in Muggle Studies, Valeria, remember? She was going on and on about how we all need to start looking at pairing off. She used you and Draco as an example,” Pansy said. Indeed, Valeria had nearly forgotten about that. She sat back down.

“I don’t think anything will happen until the war is actually over,” Valeria said honestly, trying to be reassuring.

“But what about after? Are we all going to be in some fucked up arranged marriage?” Daphne asked.

“The Dark Lord arranged me and Draco himself, I doubt that will be the case with anyone else. That doesn’t mean it won’t be expected in the future. Part of this whole fight is to keep pureblood lines alive,” Valeria said.

“So we’re all going to end up like you?” Pansy asked. Despite her words there was no disdain in her voice. If anything, she sounded entirely sympathetic. Valeria looked around more closely at her friends and finally saw that they were not angry at her. They felt sorry for her and were equally terrified.

“Draco’s a Death Eater, it’s more complicated for me,” Valeria admitted, trying to be reassuring.

“And how long before others follow suit?” Daphne asked.

“That’s up to the Dark Lord,” Valeria said, which, judging by their demeanors, was little comfort to them.

“So what do we do?” Pansy asked.

“It’d be smart to look into finding someone,” Valeria admitted. “Then if push comes to shove, at least you’ll be ready.”

The girls were silent.

Draco did not wait to be found. He got antsy after Valeria left and sought his peers out on his own without difficulty, as they were in their usual compartment. He was surprised to find Blaise seated opposite Nott.

“Greengrass said you were looking for me,” Draco said as he sat by Nott.

“I sent a Hufflepuff second year to find you. I’m not going to wander aimlessly around the entire train,” Blaise said nonchalantly.

“Might want to let him know that I’m here,” Draco said.

Blaise shrugged. “Kid’s a bit pudgy. He could use the exercise.”

“Where are Crabbe and Goyle?” Draco asked.

“Flexing their new prefect muscles,” Nott said. “I’m sure they’ll come back when they get bored.”

“Never thought I’d see the day those two got rewarded for anything at school,” Blaise said with a little laugh.

“Valeria said the same thing,” Draco replied.

“And how is young Mrs. Malfoy?” Blaise asked. Draco gave him a dark glare.

“She’s fine,” Draco said.

As if on cue, the carriage door opened and Crabbe and Goyle marched in triumphantly, as if they had won some hard-fought battle. They shoved themselves in the seat beside Blaise, who was unhappy to have them encroach on him, but did not protest much.

“Looks like the gang’s almost back together. Just like the Inquisitorial Squad,” Goyle said to Draco.

“Remember that Valeria and I are Head Girl and Boy,” Draco said, reverting to the authority with which he spoke to them for the majority of their schooling.

“Oh, we know,” Crabbe said. “But the Carrows seem pretty pleased with us already. Said if we do good, they might even recommend us to do work for the Dark Lord once school is over. Then we’ll be equals.”

Draco didn’t like Crabbe’s tone and never considered Crabbe or Goyle to be his equals in any sense of the word, though he did like them as his friends, at least until this year. He hadn’t much left to hold over them, he was becoming increasingly aware of, save for one thing. He lifted up the sleeve on his left arm, remembering the awe with which they marveled at it when he showed it to them last year. They gave a similar response now.

“Not quite yet,” Draco said, feeling Nott judge his forwardness beside him.

“That’s the goal, isn’t it?” Goyle asked. “And if we do well, we’ll be rewarded.”

“It is a big honor,” Draco said, lowering his sleeve, wanting them to shut up.

“You really think the Dark Lord wants idiots like you in his inner circle?” Blaise said, laughing still, not taking much seriously as ever.

“He chose Malfoy before he was of age!” Goyle protested.

“For a specific task,” Blaise said. “Don’t get me wrong. You’d be useful to him, but you two are not Snape or Lestrange.”

“We got high marks in Dark Arts,” Crabbe said.

“Not as high as Winters,” Nott said. “She even taught Carrow curses.”

“Don’t you mean _Mrs. Malfoy_?” Goyle said darkly and Draco glared at him. Nott shrugged.

“It’s all the same to me,” Nott said.

“Speaking of which,” Blaise interrupted, intuitively trying to change the subject. “Greengrass wrote me over the break. We had an interesting back-and-forth. She said she was being practical and wanted to see if I’d be interested in her if Carrow’s message about purebloods pairing off young became a rule.”

“Maybe that’s how we’d be rewarded if we didn’t get the Dark Mark after school,” Crabbe said as if he had the stupidest epiphany in history.

“Really? You’re already planning for that, Zabini?” Draco asked, ignoring Crabbe.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Blaise said.

“You never seemed the type to settle down anytime soon,” Draco remarked.

“I’m not. It’s a matter of practicality. Greengrass is pretty, she’s smart and I’ve known her long enough. If it came down to it, then I’d rather have it be her than not have a choice at all. You of all people should understand that,” Blaise said.

“Wouldn’t have chosen differently, even if I could,” Draco said.

“Fair enough. Should have remembered you’d been lovesick for her for years,” Blaise said.

“I hope I get Parkinson,” Goyle said.

“You won’t _get_ anyone, moron,” Blaise said. “She’d still have to agree to it.”

“Malfoy got Valeria as a reward!” Crabbe argued.

“That was different!” Draco said, careful to mind his words. “And knowing Parkinson, there’s a fat chance she’d ever agree to it.”

“She talks too much anyway,” Nott observed.

“Yeah, and who do you think would want you?” Goyle said defensively.

Nott didn’t seem bothered, he never was. “Doesn’t matter much to me. Davies is fine. She’s attractive, quiet, doesn’t get into trouble or draw attention to herself. That’d suit me.”

“Well, you better talk to her about it before Bulstrode is the last woman standing,” Blaise teased.

“Don’t matter how much she talks or anything like that. Just look at how fast Malfoy straightened Valeria out. She used to be so fucking annoying—” Crabbe said. Draco instinctively got to his feet and loomed over Crabbe, who was still much larger than himself.

“I didn’t do _anything_ to her,” Draco said through his teeth.

“I think Winters is smart enough to handle herself,” Nott said, possibly trying to defuse the tension, it was hard to tell with him.

“You really think Malfoy of all people could tell her what to do?” Blaise laughed. “She’s had him whipped since before first year.”

Draco did not like that implication either, but it shut Crabbe up and he calmed down enough to sit back down. He had wanted to get the rest of the year over with as quickly as possible, do as little as possible, just to get through it. It was starting to dawn on him, to his dismay, that it was not going to be so simple.

Valeria rejoined Draco at the feast and looked around the room. Despite all the reports of missing people she had heard over the break form little anecdotes the others at Malfoy Manor had dropped here and there, the student body was still mostly complete, sans the muggleborns and the wanted, of course. She did not bring up the conversation with the girls to Draco, not yet, and Draco had no desire to divulge the boys’ conversation on the train; It made him too angry. Crabbe and Goyle were enjoying their new positions, standing with pride as Snape announced their appointment, but it was easy to tell that their peers in the other houses were far from happy.

Despite the day being rather uneventful, Valeria found herself exhausted and wanted to flop her body down on a sofa and talk with Draco for as long as her eyes would suffer to stay open. She was starting to miss him already, despite hating being at the Manor. At least they had time to let their guard down a little when they were alone.

“Mrs. Malfoy!”

Valeria turned, nearly at the staircase that led down to the dungeons after dinner, to see Longbottom looking at her, his face hard to read. He was defiant in his body language, but his tone made him sound uncomfortable. The area was still filled with students, so at least Longbottom made the wise decision to save face while in public.

“How can I help you?” Valeria asked. Draco inched closer to her side, eyeing Longbottom.

“I wanted to talk to you about a…disciplinary matter that I saw on the train. I want to report something,” he said. He was lying, that was plain enough.

“Then say so,” Draco interjected.

“I’d like to bring it to her privately, Malfoy, _with all due respect_ ,” Longbottom said, unable to hide his hatred for Draco in the sarcasm dripping off his tone.

“As Head Boy—” Draco began.

“And she’s Head Girl. Or do you not trust your own wife to be able to handle matters on her own?”

“How dare you—” Draco said through gritted teeth, on edge and having no patience left within him.

“Draco,” Valeria said, stopping him as he took a step toward Longbottom. “I’ll take care of this.”

Draco thought for a moment unconvinced. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You’ll tell me everything he says.”

“Of course,” she replied.

“If she isn’t in the common room in ten minutes, it’ll be on your head Longbottom,” Draco warned.

“Duly noted, _Malfoy_ ,” Longbottom said. Draco gave Valeria one more serious look before following their Slytherin housemates down to the dungeons. Valeria led Longbottom to a secluded corridor not far off, the students having shuffled away rather quickly to the sanctuary of their respective common rooms.

“Shouldn’t we find somewhere more private?” Longbottom said.

“It’ll be worse if we get caught in a locked room. We’ll be fine. I have authority here. Now what do you want?” she said.

“Luna,” Longbottom said, his tone changing to one of malice and anger.

Valeria rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you people to not do things like this? Was what I did to Weasley not enough?”

“I don’t give a damn what you do to me after what you did to her. She was the only one who still had any faith in you—”

“Then she’s the stupidest of all of you,” Valeria said harshly.

Longbottom took a breath. “I don’t care why you did it. I don’t want more of your shitty excuses and I probably wouldn’t believe you anyway. I just have to know; Is she alive?”

Valeria bit her lip. “Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“I told you she’s alive. That’s all I can say. I’m sorry,” she said, turning away.

“Winters—” he called quietly after her, grabbing for her arm. She ripped away from his grasp instinctively.

“ _Malfoy_ ,” Valeria corrected maliciously, hoping he’d finally get the idea. “I granted your wish. That’s all I will say. For both our sakes. Better run along now.”

“This isn’t over, _Malfoy_ ,” Longbottom said, barely containing his own ire.

“You have no idea,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of action this chapter, and that it's a tad shorter than usual, but I had to get this one out and I wanted to do so quickly. Thank you all for the comments and kudos, as usual! Stay well, stay safe.


	26. Scare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sexual content and more severe magical violence ahead.

_"Were we as bad as the rest of them?" she asked._

_"I think so," he replied._

_*****_

Hogwarts was falling apart.

The classes were roughly the same. The punishments were harsher. More students had been barred from meals for days at a time. Some disappeared for days in confinement and returned looking as though they had seen hell itself. Seamus Finnegan’s face was black and blue after serving a detention in Dark Arts wherein another student, under influence of Crabbe’s Imperius Curse, used fists to beat wandless Finnegan. Though Valeria hardly had to do anything as Head girl. Her comrades in Slytherin had been reporting students left and right, the Carrows taking everything from a Slytherin’s mouth as gospel with no further investigation. The point system would have been a joke if things had not been so grim; Slytherin with an absurd amount of points and all other houses in the negatives.

None of that worried Valeria.

She sat in the restroom in the girls’ dormitory one night, shaking and alone, pushing down on her pelvic muscles as hard as she could in the desperate hope something would happen. Each time she checked it was the same. Her cycle was a couple days late.

She had avoided Draco to a minor degree. Panic in her heart, every time she looked at him, she only saw the son that came to her in nightmares, they looked so much alike, after all. She and Draco had been stupid, so very stupid, over the holidays. They hadn’t thought much on prevention, too caught in the riptide of young adult lusts.

Draco had missed their intimacy, and she had too before the fear set in. She missed him. She missed being able to wake in the night and curl up beside him. She missed the reassurance that he was there. Simply there. Breathing. Alive. And the only time they were not so very caught up in the misery of their predicament was when they were intimate. That was when they could be young, foolishly in love, stumbling around each other in the dark, learning and loving together. While technique had yet to be perfected, neither seemed to care.

But now, faced with the possible consequences, she could not bear to have him touch her. Their routine of heavy snogging made her cringe. She did not see him as the boy she loved or even her husband, but father to the parasite that might have been growing within her. Draco noticed her lack of physical affection, but she held off telling him, wanting to wait a little longer to see if her cycle came. Things happen in the body, after all. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for these things to shift.

“What’s going on with you?” Draco asked one night in the decrepit dungeon classroom. “You’ve been...aloof.” She tried to blame it on stress in school, but he didn’t buy it for a second. “We’re not leaving the room until you tell me what’s going on.”

She stood silent and still, heart about to burst and she almost wished that it would. Instinctively, she clutched at the outside of her robes, feeling the vial of poison hanging around her neck underneath, which she had thus far managed to sneakily hide from Draco. It was a morbid comfort that if the worst had indeed happened, at least she had a way out.

“I’m late,” she whispered.

“Late for what?” Draco asked, unamused.

“Draco,” she said simply, looking him in the eye, nearly in tears. He raised an eyebrow, not understanding. She stared at him longer, his cool gray eyes full of concerned confusion, exhausted and pained. It took him longer than it should have to realize, and she was helpless but to look on at him, unable to bring herself to say it outright. She watched as his expression morphed, face turning pale with abject horror as he finally put it together. A raised eyebrow on his face. He didn’t understand. Until she stated at him longer.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he said to himself, staggering back a little as if he had been shoved by an unseen force, running his hands through and tugging at his hair. “Are you sure?”

“No, but—”

“Fuck!” he shouted, kicking over a dusty old chair. Nearly panting, he held himself up with his hands on an old table, back hunched over trying to catch his breath. Trembling, Valeria approached him and tentatively reached to place her hand lightly on his shoulder. He turned and grabbed her by the upper arms, taking care not to grasp roughly. “Do you _feel_ like…? Do you _feel_ different?”

Valeria considered. She hadn’t felt any different in truth, and any ill feeling in her gut, she suspected, was brought on by fear. She shook her head. “I don’t feel different really…I don’t know…” He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say, how to make sense of anything. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll take care of this,” he said, releasing her.

“What does that _mean_?”

“It means we’ll take care of it,” he said, agitated. “Listen to me; Tell no one. Not Greengrass, not your mother or mine, not Pomfrey. No one, understand?”

“I’m not stupid, Draco!” she said. He took a moment to try to breathe himself into calmness.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, put a hand on her back and guiding her out, walking fast as if pursued by some invisible enemy.

“Would you just shut it, Greengrass?! I can’t hear myself bloody think,” Draco said as they awaited Muggle Studies the next day. Daphne had been talking to Valeria, and the other Slytherins in proximity, about the latest gossip or rumors floating around the school. It was clear Draco had hardly slept and he was far more irritable than usual. Daphne shot Draco a hateful look and Valeria mouthed an _“I’m sorry”_ to her friend, to which Daphne rolled her eyes in response.

Draco volunteered to practice dueling in her stead during Dark Arts after Amycus Carrow had called on her. It had been abrupt, embarrassing. Draco shot out of his seat and claimed he wanted more practice. Fortunately, none of the other students seemed to bat an eye at Draco’s sudden eagerness to fling curses at other students.

Draco’s sour mood, as warranted as it was, made nothing easier on Valeria and she regretted revealing the truth of her fears to him. He hovered over her the entire day, keeping extra close to her side, seeming to monitor her every move and every bite she ate. He reminded her to “mind the stairs,” and each time she cleared her throat or shifted in her seat, he looked at her with more fear in his eyes than she had ever seen. Each time she returned from the restroom, he would look at her expectantly, as though she were about to make some grand announcement.

It had been wearing on her, making her feel like an animal locked in a cage to gawk at or a toddler whose every move needed to be watched over. She felt relief when he made himself scarce during their shared free period. Blaise and Daphne, who Valeria had noticed were spending more time together than usual, asked after what was wrong with Draco, but Valeria simply told them that general stress was wearing on him.

“Let’s talk in the classroom tonight,” Draco whispered in her ear over dinner, keeping his heavy bookbag close.

“It’s not our night to patrol,” Valeria said, reminding him of their usual routine.

“We’re Head Boy and Girl, remember? We’ll be fine. We need to talk,” he said. She wanted to argue with him but didn’t have the energy, nor would she risk their peers overhearing them. Shortly after dinner she and Draco made their way in silence down to their usual haunt in the dungeons. Draco kept close, she could practically feel him breathing down her neck, his hand on her back to guide her as if she didn’t know where she was going. She felt the walls close in around her and her patience was wearing thin as Draco magically secured the door behind them, casting a more powerful silencing charm over the entrance as well. He plopped his bag with a thud onto a table, dust flying everywhere and unpacked a short stack of books out of the bag.

She grabbed one as he unpacked them, fed up with his demeanor, and read the cover; _Magical Reproductive Health_. She rolled her eyes and tossed it near the others. She folded her arms and stared Draco down.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“I told you, we’ll take care of it,” he said.

“Where’d you even find these? I doubt Pince would let you check these out with your Alchemy books,” Valeria said.

“Pomfrey’s office. I hexed some Hufflepuff for a uniform violation and brought him to the Hospital Wing. Managed to buy enough time to sneak these from her shelf,” Draco explained. Valeria rolled her eyes again; so that’s what he’d been doing during his free period. “What did you expect me to do? Nothing? This cannot happen, Valeria. If you’re actually…I won’t allow it.”

“So what’s your plan for my body, then?” she asked.

“You can’t be serious. Do you actually _want_ —” he said, frustrated.

“Of course, I don’t! But I would at least like to be let it on your plan. Perhaps I could even be consulted about it, if you would be so kind,” she said sarcastically. With an agitated energy he took one of the books in hand and flipped through the pages, setting it down before her once he had reached the desired section titled _Magical_ _Abortifacients_.

“We have options. There are spells and potions, even some ritual stuff, each have their own pros and cons, but they’re all effective,” he said. Valeria skimmed over the options laid out in the book.

“Most of these can take up to a day or two,” she said. “And they’re all pretty…messy. How do you expect me to hide cramping and bleeding all day?”

“Easier than hiding…further along, I mean…” he said, trailing off, unable to say it aloud. “I was thinking we could go home for a weekend. My father’s birthday is coming up, that’s a good excuse.”

“You think Snape or the Carrows would approve us going back for a birthday party in the middle of a war? Your father’s birthday of all people? And how would I hide it from your parents, your aunt? The other Death Eaters constantly running around your house—?”

“We’ll think of something!” Draco insisted.

“We don’t even know if I’m actually—”

“I thought of that too,” he said, going to another book and opening it to a bookmarked page. “Unfortunately, looks like you need to be a decent healer to be able to tell. Some of the spells that reveal it can be pretty dangerous, says so here.”

“So can your solutions if I’m not,” Valeria said. “How exactly do you expect this to work.”

“Would you stop?!” he shouted. “I’m doing this for both of us. We have to plan for the worst outcome.”

“You expect me to be grateful? After acting like I’m so delicate all day and now bringing me this half-assed plan?”

“I expect you to consider the options,” Draco insisted. “Can you even imagine what would happen if you are—”

“We don’t even know for sure,” she said.

“But if you _are_!” he said. “They’ll separate us. They’ll pull you out of school, while I finish the year, and lock you up at home until…the time comes and then we’d have to figure out how to raise the damn thing!”

“How do you know this?”

“It was discussed,” Draco admitted.

“What does that mean?!”

“Before we got married, the possibility of this happening was brought up and discussed. Remember, everyone thinks it could have been possible since our wedding night.”

“And you decided to keep this plan from me?” she asked.

“I didn’t think it would happen. We didn’t, y’know, until Christmas, which was obviously a mistake,” he said.

“So you regret that too?”

“Will you just listen?” he said, exacerbated. “I don’t regret doing it, but I do regret being fucking stupid about it!” She relented, choosing not to argue further. Despite his methods, he was correct. This was a disaster. Neither of them was remotely in any state to care for a child, let alone one brought into such an awful world where their own survival had yet to be guaranteed.

“If it comes to that, I’ll do what I have to do,” she said, which seemed to soothe his anxiety some. “But if anyone finds out…”

“No one will,” he said.

“But they could. What if your aunt finds out we did this? If I am, and I mean _if_ , then this _thing_ is pureblood, the next generation of both our bloodlines. They aren’t just going to let us get away with—”

“That’s a risk we have to take. I’m not going to let this happen to us,” he said, though his voice did carry the weight of concern. They were quiet for a moment, staring at the books detailing the process they might be facing with cold and clinical descriptions. “I’m sorry,” he said after prolonged silence.

“It was my idea to begin with, Draco,” Valeria said with a sigh, remembering the night after they had arrived at Malfoy Manor over the break.

“They made it pretty clear that whatever happens to us falls on me. It’s my responsibility too,” he said. “And I’m not the one who has to suffer the most for it.”

She looked at him, a little surprised at the maturity of his honesty considering his attitude the entire day, which she could forgive him for in the end. Looking at him, she again saw the boy in her dreams who resembled Draco so much, save for his eyes and the gentleness or softness of heart that Valeria knew well enough rested deep within the fictional boy’s assumed father. Fear gripped her by the heart, and she leaned into Draco who instinctively brought her closer to him. He was kind enough to allow her this small catharsis, to finally relinquish control over the complex cocktail of emotions she had been bottling up. She could even hear a few sniffles from him with her head buried in his chest.

“Have you ever thought about having children?” she asked eventually. She expected him to brush her off, as he did when she raised the subject before, but he managed to surprise her again.

“Not really beyond figuring I’d have them someday. You?”

She shook her head. “Not really. We will have to someday, you know.”

“I know,” he said sadly. “But not right now.”

“And when we do…what will their life be like?” she asked.

“Probably a lot like ours, but more, if that makes sense. Probably be expected to follow in my footsteps and do better at it,” Draco said with a tone of regretful honesty, mourning the cruelly predetermined life of a hypothetical child as if it was his own life that he spoke of.

“Do you ever regret our lives, how we were raised?” she asked.

He sighed. “It was a good life, until it wasn’t. That’s been…hard to forgive.”

She understood intrinsically. “I feel like I’ve been paying for their failures for years.”

“That’s how it goes, isn’t it?” he said. “Ours will probably have to pay the price for us too.”

“I don’t see what we’ve really done wrong, in the grand scheme of things. It’s not like we wanted it to be this way, to do what we’ve done,” she said.

“The world isn’t going to see it that way,” Draco said. “Not much we can do about any of it, I don’t think.”

“We can try to love them, if we can,” she said.

“Yeah. Maybe someday,” he said.

It was another two days of Valeria feeling as though her young life was over before it truly started, a familiar feeling but this time with higher stakes, before she awoke to find a small patch of blood on her sheets in the morning. She fell back into bed, as though knocked over by the immense relief she felt. She rushed to get ready for classes after tidying up and managed to pull Draco aside in the common room without anyone noticing anything peculiar. The weight of the world seemed to drop from his shoulders that Valeria thought he might float away when she whispered the news to him. Draco could not help but pull her into a grateful embrace. Blaise, having just arrived down from the boys’ dormitories raised an eyebrow and looked to Daphne curiously, who simply shrugged in response, just as much in the dark as he was.

January continued much in the same way it began. The DA students were wreaking havoc wheresoever they could, paying no mind to how they were punished, if caught. Valeria had noticed these students in particular being missing more often than earlier in the year. They would often be nowhere to be found when they were being hunted down for scribbling more rebellious graffiti on the walls. For the most part, they acted as though Valeria didn’t exist, save for when they passed in the halls or they otherwise got close enough to spit at the ground by her or call her _Traitor_ , _Bitch_ and other foul, but perhaps deserved, names. Valeria would deduct the points and hand out a detention, but Draco was often less merciful, sending students straight to the Carrows or issuing a longer detention period.

“Careful, Weasley,” Draco said to Ginny after overhearing the latter call Valeria an _Evil Cunt_ , which was a harsh choice of words, even from Ginny. “Don’t want to end up like your friend Lovegood too, do you?” Valeria felt a pang in her chest, remembering Luna still locked up in Malfoy Manor, but Draco defended his use of the threat regardless.

Draco and Valeria lost control over the prefects, for the most part, thanks mostly to Crabbe and Goyle having free reign given to them by the Carrows. Neither of them could say they cared much for their lost responsibilities, though Valeria was sickened by Crabbe and Goyle’s eagerness and methods. They did their part, when needed, but the weekly meetings puttered out without hardly a word, the Carrows became far more involved in matters in an effort to quell student rebellions and in the end, the two of them seemed only to be Head Boy and Girl in name only.

The Carrows had taken to public punishments as February arrived. One of their preferred methods was chaining students to the walls in the Great Hall for a day or two at a time, watching as their free peers ate and went about their business helplessly. Valeria tried not to look at them and could not risk kicking food over to them, even if she managed to make it look like a thoughtless accident.

Draco and Valeria settled back into their routine of seeking alone time in the dungeons after patrolling. Both tried to turn a blind eye to misery around them by finding comfort in each other, physically. Draco had been prudent not to cross certain physical limits, far more careful than he had been before, not wanting to risk either of them losing control and having a scare again. Valeria agreed that it was wise, but did make a jape about Draco’s newfound celibacy, which he did not find as funny as she did.

They found that their best method of coping was to cling to each other for dear life, primarily speaking metaphorically. Times were few and far between where Draco and Valeria were not at each other’s sides, constantly talking or whispering or sharing knowing looks, often baffling their peers. School was so mired with pain, so fraught with suffering at every turn that Valeria felt little guilt at taking every opportunity to find some comfort with Draco; What little could be found. Immersed in her studies, the ones she found meaningful anyway, and trying to get through the exhaustion and fear made Valeria completely forget her February birthday, leaving her shocked for a moment when Daphne tossed a wrapped gift on her bed one morning.

“It’s not much. Things are hard to get these days, but I wanted to do something,” Daphne said with a bit of a sad smile. Valeria opened it to be met with a framed picture of her and Daphne as children, smiling broadly, arms around each other’s shoulders in front of the Greengrass family home. Valeria smiled, fully and genuinely, to see it, having completely forgotten that day when she was a different girl.

“I love it,” Valeria said, going to hug her friend. “Thank you.”

“I know things are different now. I don’t like it all, but I guess I know it has to be that way for now. Maybe it’ll get better, once this is over, I mean,” Daphne said. Valeria for the first time and with massive guilt could plainly see just how much Daphne missed her, realizing herself how much she too had ignored and missed her best friends, despite everything.

“I’d like that. I’d really like that,” Valeria said regretfully.

There was not much in the way of celebration, not like in previous years. Tracey had gotten all of Slytherin house to sign a birthday card, probably with some back-up from Pansy, who likely took some joy in getting everyone to fall in line. Draco’s signature was the largest and one of the least hastily written. It was a simple, but kind, gesture that Valeria certainly appreciated. Draco took Valeria out for a stroll during the free period to one of the smaller castle courtyards. The place, she remembered, was once bustling with students, even in the winter, but now was barren and empty. The cloak Draco had gotten her for Christmas kept the biting air at bay as they sat on one of the benches.

“I’d say we should walk about the grounds or something, but the dementors…” Draco said. Valeria shrugged it off, understanding. This was one of the few places where dementors weren’t constantly flying about overhead. Draco retrieved a small box from his bag and handed it to her. “From my parents.” Opening it, she found an ornate and finely crafted music box, but it made no sound when she lifted the lid. “It’s enchanted. It’ll play any song you tell it.”

“I’ll write her with my thanks,” Valeria said. Draco nodded and retrieved something else from his bag. It was thinner and Valeria could feel a frame contained within as he handed it to her. “This is from me.” Inside was a framed picture, but a moving sketch rather than a photograph. Two figures, male and female, resembling the two of them dressed in their finest dancing in a darkened, isolated corridor. She looked at him smiling. “It’s from—” he began.

“The Yule Ball,” she finished for him, to his mild relief. Even from the black and white, drawn picture, she could easily tell those were the dress robes she wore that night in fourth-year. They were alone, a touch inebriated, lazily stepping about in an attempt to dance.

“That was my favorite part of the whole night and those no pictures of it, so…” he said awkwardly.

“Did you draw this?” she asked. He laughed, really laughed, for the first time in a while, as he shook his head.

“No, I just described it to the artist, the one who did our portrait at Christmas,” Draco admitted.

“You must have described it perfectly. It’s just like how I remembered,” she said.

“Yeah, me too. That’s how I like to remember it,” he said, a tone of regret in his voice. She gave him a thankful kiss on the cheek.

“This is really thoughtful. Thank you,” she said.

“You sound surprised I had it in me,” he said.

“Considering last year you gave me a gift that I rejected from the previous year…” she teased.

“Never going to live that down, am I?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“We’ve been married six months,” he said after a lull of silence. “Since yesterday, if I remember right.” Valeri realized he was correct. She had hardly remembered it. It was often easy to forget the state of their union when they were alone, and with everything else falling apart around them.

“We’ve come pretty far,” she said, trying to convince herself to be optimistic.

“Still a long way to go,” he said sadly. She could not disagree. It was really all she could do to try to change the subject. They sat on for a while, talking about nothing. There was little laughter to be had, even on a celebratory occasion, but Valeria was relishing it all the same. She was wise to do so. There was nothing more she wanted for her birthday, if she were to receive anything, than some peace, even if it didn’t last.

And it didn’t. Dinner that night carried on as normal, whatever the new normal claimed to be. Afterward Draco and Valeria patrolled together, rather lazily. Their duties had become easier. With the rebellious students often disappearing and figuring out how not to be caught, the other students too scared to risk roaming about after hours, there was often little to do. They opened the doors to the empty Great Hall, expecting only to find the first-year who had been chained to the wall for some offense Valeria didn’t recall.

They turned to the clinking sound from the left side of the room, and to their surprise found Michael Corner frozen in fear, his hand holding one of the chains that had bound the first-year student, now partially freed. Corner dropped the chains and drew his wand, but Draco was a fraction of a second faster, disarming the Ravenclaw boy with ease. Valeria retrieved Corner’s wand while Draco hexed him, binding Corner’s hands behind him. Corner turned to Valeria.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“Afraid, we do, Corner. Let’s go,” Draco said, a rough hand on Corner’s shoulder and Valeria keeping her wand aimed at the culprit. They walked Corner out of the Great Hall, after rechaining the tearful first-year, which Valeria felt ill doing. Valeria glanced every so often at Draco’s face that had earlier been soft, his eyes vulnerable, but now was twisted and almost fearful. She could feel what he felt, in a way; The dread, the conflicting feelings, the fear of what would happen if they did not do as they too were told.

“Winters, we know. We know this isn’t all your fault. You can still do something about it. Longbottom says—” Corner said, interrupted by an instinctive cry of pain. Draco had given Corner a swift, hard kick to the back of the shin.

“Her name is Mrs. Malfoy, to the likes of you. Now shut up,” Draco said. Corner, like so many of his fellows, did not heed Draco’s warning.

“You _can_ stop this. You were one of us! You hated Umbridge, how can stand this?! You were with Terry. How can you just let this—” Another cry of pain came from Corner and he nearly fell to his knees after another kick from Draco.

“It won’t just be a kick next time. Mind your words,” Draco said darkly, fearing what might come out of Corner’s mouth next. Fortunately, they were close enough to Amycus Carrow’s office for Corner to realize that running his mouth would likely only worsen his predicament.

“We caught this one releasing the first-year in the Great Hall, sir,” Draco said. Valeria looked at Amycus, unable to look Corner in the eye. “We fixed that and brought him here.”

Carrow looked enraged. “Is that so? Fifty points each to Slytherin. You two are dismissed. I’ll take it from here.”

Valeria would have laughed at the absurd amount of points they received would it have not been unwise to do so. Draco and Valeria left Corner with Carrow and carried on with the little remaining portion of their patrol. Neither had wanted to acknowledge what they had done, knowing just how severe the punishments were becoming, until Valeria couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Did we have to do that? Should we have just given him detention and been done with it, maybe?” she asked.

“He was out after hours and helping get a student out of punishment. No way we would have gotten away with just detention. Listen, he brought it on himself. He knows the rules. Try not to beat yourself up about it,” he said, but Valeria was unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

Corner was not in classes the next day, which caused Valeria concern. Draco told her not to think about it, that lingering on it would only make it worse. Longbottom and Weasley shot her dirty looks from across the room both at meals and in classes she shared with the former. Terry Boot, along with his fellow Ravenclaws, looked at Valeria as if she smelled of something uniquely foul. She ignored it for the most part, such treatment was routine and to be expected, until near the end of dinner where Snape rose and called attention to the front of the room.

“It is difficult to express the depth of my disappointment in those of you who have taken it upon yourself to not comply with school policies. Even worse are those of you who aid and abet disobedience. We must all do our part in difficult times as these to maintain order and assist one another in adjusting to the new ways of life. Last night, a student was caught releasing another from their assigned discipline. Thankfully, this student was unable to achieve his ends due to the diligence of our Head Boy and Girl. You would all be wise to follow their example. However, it would seem that perhaps you all require a demonstration of what happens to the petulant and disobedient. Professor Carrow?” Snape orated.

Carrow entered from one of the doors near the staff table, a bruised and worse for wear Corner shoved along in front of him and made to stand in front of the entire school. Without grand introduction, without another word, Carrow took his position and raised his wand at Corner.

“ _Crucio_ ,” Carrow cursed. Corner fell to floor, portions of the student body gasping at the sound of the thud, but even that could not drown out Corner’s screams. “Anyone who looks away will suffer the same fate!”

Alecto, Snape, Filch and the like looked out over the student body. Valeria glanced for a brief second at McGonagall, tears in her eyes, pale and trembling with her hand over her mouth, many of the other professors clearly sharing her sentiment, but with naught to do to stop it. It was minutes, literally minutes, before Carrow relented. Valeria felt Draco’s entire body tense beside her, as they complicity watched on. Carrow flung a slew of curses at defenseless Corner; Valeria recognized one that broke bones, another that struck with such force as to immediately cause bloodied bruises, and many others that Carrow had yet to teach them. After several more minutes of ear-shattering screaming, discombobulated pleading and unfathomable agony. Carrow finally stopped and looked up with a satisfied smile at the student body.

“Remember this the next time you think it wise to defy the rules. Dismissed,” Carrow said. The students didn’t need to be told twice and Draco gripped Valeria’s hand with tense force as they shuffled out of the hall with their peers. They shared a knowing look, hearing the hushed, horrified whispers and even soft crying in the crowd around them. Draco’s jaw trembled, his eyes were wet, and he squeezed Valeria’s hand again, as if to remind himself that she was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for jamming in so much into one chapter, but I realized I had more to get through than my outline made me think. As always, thanks for all the comments and kudos, they're very encouraging and I love them. Stay well, stay safe.


	27. The Forced Confession of Luna Lovegood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild violence (magical and non-magical.) Heavy discussion of suicide ahead.

_"Was there a time for you? When you remember it happening?" he asked._

_"No. Maybe it always was," she told him._

_*****_

The public torture of Michael Corner seemed to have the desired impact.

The pranks, the writings of dissent on the walls and the overt rebellion in classrooms by disagreeable students appeared to cease entirely overnight. More rebellious students seemed to vanish into thin air. Finnigan, for one, was nowhere to be found along with several other of his DA compatriots. Longbottom lingered around, Weasley as well, but their friends either vanished or were subdued. This was much to the dismay of Crabbe and Goyle who had been reveling in their execution of torment, and the two claimed they were on a mission to hunt down those who went missing. Valeria was almost relieved by their absence and the ceasing of their antics. She had warned them of what would happen if they refused to bend. She no longer had to worry about them interfering with her life, potentially putting her in harm’s way or making the difficult choices she had to in the past.

Had she been sounder of mind, or not been so emotionally exhausted, she might have put it together. She had spent countless hours in the Room of Requirement last year, after all, and was well aware of the room being the official DA headquarters the year prior to that. To her mind, the less she thought of them the better. Her scope of care had narrowed significantly by then. All that mattered to her now was her and Draco.

“What’s that?” Draco asked, as they sat alone in the common room late one night, noticing the book in her hand as he looked up from his schoolwork. She smirked and tossed it to him.

“Belated birthday gift from my mother,” Valeria said. Draco took the book in hand and shook his head as he read the cover.

“ _A Young Bride’s Guide to Tradition, Etiquette and Manners of Married Life_ ,” Draco read aloud. “She’ll just never get it, will she?”

“I don’t know why I ever thought otherwise,” Valeria said. Draco flipped to a random page of the book and cleared his throat.

“ _A married lady must never publicly quarrel with her husband and all disagreements should be managed in private. For while the traditional man is obligated to heed his wife’s counsel, depending on his individual temperament, the fragility of the male ego should not be underestimated. Public disagreement with one’s husband can cause a great deal of strife both within and without the marriage…_ ” Draco read, putting on an exaggerated drawl to aid his performance, which made Valeria laugh. He returned to his usual tone. “Damn, maybe you could learn something from this,” he said, sarcastically. She jabbed her elbow a little into his side as they both laughed.

“You glossed over the ‘ _fragility of the male ego_ ’ part,” she said.

“Who wouldn’t be a little sensitive after dealing with your attacks on their character their entire life?” Draco said, still joking. “ _Stop instigating, Draco. Why are you like this, Draco? You’re impossible, Draco. Think of your reputation, Draco. Flaunting is garish, Draco. Challenging Potter to a duel makes you look like a pompous arse, Draco…_ It wears on a guy after the first decade.”

“God, I forgot about that duel. The one you didn’t even show up for…” she said with a laugh.

“That was some of my best work,” Draco defended.

“Some would call it dishonorable,” Valeria said.

“It nearly worked, didn’t it?” Draco said with a shrug. He flipped lazily through the book again before shutting it with a soft thud and stood. “Since you’re entirely hopeless in this matter, completely irredeemable, I’d say, there doesn’t seem to be much point in having this waste space on a dusty shelf somewhere, does there?”

She raised an eyebrow at him as he smirked and walked over to the fireplace. The Slytherin common room, being well underground, was always cool even as the winter began its annual thaw on the rise of spring. Therefore, the fireplace was alight nearly every night Valeria could remember. Draco stood a couple steps back and with a simple motion of his wrist, tossed the book into the fire, the disturbed flames spitting up around it before engulfing it. The smell and smoke were entirely unpleasant, but Valeria smiled at him as he turned back to face her, full of pride and satisfaction, albeit probably only for this brief moment.

“Probably should have started doing that a long time ago,” Valeria mused, thinking aloud almost. Draco sat back down beside Valeria as she watched the book burn and put his hand on her leg.

“Told you that for years, didn’t I?” he said. She recalled several times over the years of childhood when Draco, in his own obnoxiously haughty way, did tell her as much.

“Things were expected of me and I mostly didn’t mind,” Valeria said, knowing it wasn’t much of an excuse, but it was the truth. “I guess I never thought about it that much. Figured if I did everything right, it would all work out. Am I making sense?” Draco was gazing into the fire, his brow furrowed, shadows dancing across his pointed features and his hair catching the light in such a way that made him appear alight with flame in a rather haunting fashion.

“Perfect sense,” he said in a dark, regretful tone.

Valentine’s Day passed without incident as did most of February. Draco and Valeria didn’t do anything special for it, mutually deciding that it felt wrong, in a way, to do so. It seemed a futile and childish thing that left a poor taste in both their mouths. It was beginning to dawn on Valeria that while each day felt like a miserable slog that never ended, the school year was passing by quicker than she had initially noticed. Unfortunately, the quality of the education she was receiving was dwindling. Alecto Carrow was merely teaching propaganda and receiving good marks was a simple matter of being as scathing towards muggles and muggleborns in her schoolwork as she could. Amycus Carrow praised Valeria’s skill with dark magic, and while she did enjoy the mystery and fluidity of the dark arts as a discipline, the class amounted to lessons in cruelty. The other professors were often too afraid or distracted to teach as they did before and were doing the bare minimum required of them, which Valeria could hardly blame them for in the end.

And then there was after Hogwarts. With no ability to plan ahead in any reasonable way, the uncertainty left her stagnant in regard to her future. The only thing that was certain was that she would be with Draco and that, she decided, she could live with for the moment. Draco didn’t want to talk or think about the future. He was paralyzed to live in the moment, as if doom could befall them any minute and change everything. Perhaps this was wise, or perhaps it was merely a learned survival technique. It seemed to work for him, he could mostly function. Valeria could live with that too.

Christmas was now nearly three months gone, but it felt years away. The students prepared anxiously for the last recess before the schoolyear’s conclusion and Valeria didn’t know if she hated being at Hogwarts or Malfoy Manor more. She missed home, her home, something desperate. That quiet idyllic lake in Wales, that sheltered stone fortress that now sat uninhabited. She knew there was no way she’d be able to return until the war’s end, which the Dark Lord had all but won already, save for the fugitive status of Undesirable Number One.

Draco was especially anxious about returning home. There would be tasks, meetings and the like, he explained, and he preferred to be ignored by the Death Eaters and the bigger picture of their campaign while sheltered at school. There were things he didn’t share with her, she knew, the hours on the dull days he spent locked away with Lucius in the latter’s study, but she didn’t want to know, so she chose not to pry. Otherwise, despite the weight of the world, Valeria and Draco were actually in a somewhat secure spot. They had grown used to each other, drawn to each other for some familiar sanctuary, and so on the train ride back to London, they elected to sit with their friends, especially since Crabbe and Goyle said they’d like to enjoy the prefects’ carriage.

The girls were surprisingly quiet, especially Pansy, and Valeria saw the toil of the war wearing on them too. They started discussing their post-Hogwarts plans, but the girls largely shared Valeria’s feelings of really having no idea what was to come next.

“My parents wanted to leave. Maybe go to America or Australia, y’know. Somewhere further away. But Astoria needs to stay and finish school,” Daphne said with some regret. “Besides, how would that look. A pureblood family bailing before the war’s even properly finished.”

“My parents have been pushing me to get a boyfriend,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes, surprising Valeria who knew Pansy to be the most infatuated with boys of her friends, at least the most obvious about it, for as long as she’d known her. “I think they’re scared.”

“They have good reason to be,” Tracey said.

“They keep writing, ‘Look at what happened to Valeria,’ but I just tell them at least you’ve got someone who you actually get on with. Who likes you,” Pansy said regretfully.

“If I’m honest, it hardly matters,” Valeria said. “You’ve still got some time. Some kind of choice.”

“But for how long?” Daphne asked. “Blaise and I made a deal. If push comes to shove, we’ll just get it over with.”

“You think you can stand it? He’s so rude and just…full of himself,” Pansy said.

“He’s not so bad once you get to know him. At least it’s not Crabbe or Goyle,” Daphne said.

“Nott approached me, which was a shock. I thought hell had frozen over,” Tracey said.

“I didn’t know he was interested in anyone,” Pansy said.

“He was more practical about it than anything, which I kind of admire. Is that weird?” Tracey said.

“Yes,” Pansy said, getting a laugh from the rest of the group. “What about you, Valeria? What are you and Malfoy going to do after this?”

“No idea,” Valeria admitted with a sigh. “Draco will have stuff to do with the war, if it’s still going. Afterwards, who knows.”

“Think Draco will get a Ministry spot? Blaise said his dad has been pushing for that since forever,” Daphne asked.

“Maybe. Not sure Draco would like that though,” Valeria said.

“Will he have much of a choice?” Tracey asked.

“No. Probably not,” Valeria said.

“What about you?” Daphne asked.

“I don’t know. I just want some peace and quiet for a while,” Valeria said.

“Valeria, I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re better than that. I get why you don’t want to work in the Department of Mysteries anymore, but you’re the best at Potions in our year. You should try to do something—” Daphne began.

“It’s more complicated for me. We’ve been over this,” Valeria said. Daphne had been correct; Valeria did not want to hear it.

“You’re not just Malfoy’s wife and I think he’d agree with me, for once. You don’t have to give up on everything just because it didn’t work out the way you thought it would. Not yet, at least,” Daphne insisted.

“Something to think about, I guess,” Valeria said noncommittally.

“Just, can you at least promise us one thing?” Daphne asked. “That, whatever happens, you won’t disappear on us again?”

“That I can do,” Valeria said with a gentle nod.

Once the train stopped in London, the girls said their farewells to each other. Valeria had forgotten how much she missed their company and regretted that the ride to King’s Cross was so short when it came to spending time with them. Pansy and Tracey left to find their families while Daphne remained with Valeria on the platform a moment longer. Daphne wrapped her arms around Valeria and the latter welcomed the embrace, taking a moment to relish in this simple affection.

“I’m sorry, for everything that happened…” Daphne said.

“It’s okay. I’ll be alright,” Valeria said.

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be.”

Daphne didn’t quite believe her, but Valeria didn’t know how much she believed her own words. They shared one final farewell before Daphne left, leaving Valeria to wait for Draco with her luggage.

“Tell Luna Happy Easter for me, Winters.”

Valeria turned to find Longbottom looking at her with just as much bitterness as was in his tone.

“ _Malfoy_ ,” Valeria corrected.

“No harm in reminding you,” he said with a subtly defiant shrug.

“Of what?” she asked, annoyed at his stupid riddle.

“That you don’t belong to _him_. You made your own choices too, and you’ll pay for them,” Neville said. Valeria folded her arms and stepped towards him.

“Is that a threat, Longbottom?” she asked.

“Not exactly. But you can’t go on like this forever. These things will come back to get you,” he said.

“You don’t think I’ve suffered enough?” she spat through her teeth.

“Valeria!” Draco called as he approached them, and she stepped back as Draco moved between her and Longbottom. “Is he bothering you?” Draco asked, staring Longbottom down.

“Actually, yes,” Valeria said. “Might even be able to say he threatened me.”

“Bad idea to threaten a Death Eater’s wife in such a public place, Longbottom. Did all those head injuries somehow manage to make you dumber?” Draco asked, referring to Longbottom’s many detentions over the past few months.

“Her name’s Valeria or are you too up your own ass to remember?”

“You ought to remember her last name is _Malfoy_ and you’d be smart to keep her name out of your mouth,” Draco said low and through his teeth, not that it did much to deter Longbottom.

“Does it make you feel less like a sniveling coward, like a big, tough man, to act like you own her? I wouldn’t expect any different, after everything you’ve done to her—”

Draco’s quick temper had quieted some, primarily because he had wanted to stay out of as much trouble as possible in the current climate. But Valeria knew that Longbottom’s implication was an accusation Draco would never withstand, nor forgive. It was one of his last remaining triggers that summoned all of his pain and his rage, coupled with his magical skills which, despite Draco’s regrets, had improved by necessity and force. Therefore, Longbottom was too slow and perhaps had not expected Draco to be so deft as the latter pulled out his wand and hexed Longbottom in a flash.

As Longbottom reached for his own wand while knocked to the hard ground on the platform, Draco walked over and stepped hard onto his wrist, leaving Longbottom defenseless. Even so, Longbottom in all of his stubbornness refused to give Draco the satisfaction of surrender and obstinately looked up at Draco, hatred in the former’s eyes. Draco leaned over, pressing harder onto Longbottom’s wrist. Valeria did not move or protest, drawing a little bit of satisfaction herself after all the grief Longbottom and his cohort had given her. Perhaps now he’d finally learn, but something within her very much doubted that to be true.

“I’ll do you a favor, but I’m only going to say it once,” Draco said. “She never has and never will have anything to fear from me. But even you don’t want to know the half of what I’ve done to other people, understood?”

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Longbottom spat. Draco stood and stomped hard on Longbottom’s wrist, the latter releasing a low cry of pain. Valeria glanced around and saw people staring, but no one came to Longbottom’s aid, all shuffling away out of fear and wanting to escape home. Draco released Longbottom and spit on the ground near where he lay. “Might want your gran to have a look at that wrist. Happy Easter.”

Draco took Valeria by the shoulder and, with their luggage, they swiftly made their way away. Those who saw what happened parted a path for them as they passed. They found Narcissa, waiting alone, on the other end who was again relieved to see them both safely returned and in one piece. Draco was in a sour mood for the journey back to Malfoy Manor as evening came, saying hardly a word, making it clear to Valeria that Longbottom’s accusation had gotten to him and he was having trouble shaking it.

“Longbottom’s an idiot,” Valeria said once they had somewhat settled in their chambers alone as night had fallen. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m always going to be the bad guy, aren’t I?” he said, surprising Valeria that he was taking even a little bit of time to care what the likes of Longbottom thought of him.

“They don’t matter. What they think doesn’t matter,” Valeria reminded him, approaching him, embracing him from behind. “I don’t think you’re the bad guy. That’s the only thing that matters.” She waited a moment to speak again, wanting him to say something, but he was far too troubled right now. “We won’t get any trouble for what happened on the platform, right?”

Draco scoffed, turning to face her. “Longbottom’s a blood traitor and everyone knows it. It’s not much in the long run, but I still outrank _him_ by a long shot.” He paused. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. You always gave me so much shit for that sort of thing…”

“That was different. That was before. Longbottom should know better by now. He had it coming,” Valeria said, not knowing how much she believed it herself.

“You really think he, the others, are going to stop?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted. “But it won’t be much longer now before we never have to see them again.”

“And after school?” he asked.

“They probably won’t stop. But they won’t last long unless they wise up. We have enough to worry about, Draco. Let this one go. Please?” she said. Without another word, he slowly embraced her.

“Can I say something stupid?” he asked.

“What?” she asked, letting out an awkward little laugh.

“I’m a little happy you’re here too. I don’t know how I’d do this alone,” he whispered, barely audible as though he was embarrassed to admit it. She embraced him a little tighter.

“I don’t think I could,” she agreed.

The first couple days of the recess were uneventful, at least for Valeria. Malfoy Manor was much more active than usual as the war dragged on and tensions were rising everywhere. Draco was called to meetings, even only as a formality, and Valeria was more than happy to make herself scarce. Other than taking air on the grounds and sharing mealtimes with the Malfoys, she spent most of her time in their chambers. What once would have been a prison, was once again more of a sanctuary.

Draco was gone late one evening early on and Valeria kept herself busy reading a book, shoving _The Daily Prophet_ far to the side of the table. Draco hadn’t said what he was meeting his father about, grumbling about “plans for after the war,” before he set off. Again, she decided not to question it. Who was to know what plans would and would not happen anyway. Pestering him about it would only fuel both of their fears and dreads, but those same feelings rose back up when she heard a knock at the door and tentatively opened it to see Bellatrix Lestrange standing there, a sick smile on the cruel woman’s face.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Bellatrix said with sickly sweet manners. Valeria gestured for her to enter.

“Not at all,” she said. Bellatrix stepped inside and looked around the room, fondling objects here and there.

“Pretty cozy in here. I’m glad you’ve been able to make yourself at home,” Bellatrix said. Valeria had already, upon instinct, defaulted to the manners her parents had taught her. The very image of what a young pureblood woman was expected to be. Rather than a mask, this ability was now her trusty shield.

“I can’t take all the credit. Narcissa did most of the work,” Valeria said. Bellatrix laughed.

“Yes, Cissy’s always had the best eye for that. I know you’re wondering why I’ve come at this hour, but I was wondering if you would be interested in helping me with a somewhat important matter,” Bellatrix said.

Valeria’s throat went dry. “I’m always happy to serve in any way I can.”

Bellatrix approached, a proud grin on her face, and patted Valeria’s cheek. “That’s a good girl.” Bellatrix grabbed Valeria’s hand and led her to the door. “Come, let me show you.” Valeria followed without protest, of course, as Bellatrix guided her through the corridors and down several sets of stairs before eventually arriving at a door in a secluded, nearly silent area of the Manor. “Nothing to fear, dear.”

Bellatrix opened the door and gestured for Valeria to enter first, which the latter dutifully obeyed, hiding her hesitation. It was a small room, its old furniture shoved to the walls and covered with sheets so Valeria could not determine its use previously. But on a long table in the room’s center sat a cauldron, burners, various vials and jars. It was a small potions laboratory.

“After Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, some of his activities had to be moved out of the cellar and weren’t brought back when we repurposed it. It’s not quite the setup Hogwarts has, I’m sure, Lucius had other interests, but it works for our purposes. That’s where you come in, dear,” Bellatrix said as she shut the door behind them and approached. She led Valeria with a hand on her upper back to the table. “Severus has said you have quite the aptitude for potions, yes?”

Valeria nodded. “I was always pretty strong in the subject.”

“No need to be humble. You should be proud of your talents. They’re gifts! A result of your pure magical blood,” Bellatrix began. “In some of my free time, what little I have, I’ve been trying to think of ways to bring you more into our great work. Your husband’s a Death Eater and you’re supposedly a gifted witch from one of the most esteemed bloodlines in our world. It only makes sense, doesn’t it? Now that you’ve had time to…adjust, shall we say, I think there’s no better time to try. Don’t you agree?” Valeria nodded. “Excellent. Have you ever brewed Veritaserum?”

“No, but I’m familiar with it. I’ve brewed more complex things, mainly poison,” Valeria said.

“That’s right! Draco was certainly lucky to have you around, wasn’t he? That was good work. Now, we’ve been trying to acquire more of it and have been using it when needed, but I’m afraid the Snatchers were a little too liberal and uncalculated in how they used it, so our supply is running low. Severus is unfortunately too busy to babysit cauldrons lately, so I thought, who better than his previous protégé? Do you think you can do it?” Bellatrix explained.

“I can,” Valeria started. “But it takes two and a half weeks to complete and I’m to return to school before then.”

“Yes, but you can get the process started and that is the hardest part, right?” Bellatrix asked and Valeria affirmed it with a nod. “Then it’s settled. We’ll get someone to watch it while you’re away. And once you’re done at Hogwarts, you’ll be readily available should we need further assistance. You’ll be rewarded if you do well.” Bellatrix summoned a chair from under the sheets with a wave of her wand. “No time like the present. There’s a book on the table if you need it. Give it a go.”

Bellatrix sat down and Valeria did not need to be told twice, moving to the other side of the table. She opened the book, _Grandmaster Potions of Controversial Purpose_ and set to work, taking stock of the ingredients and getting everything prepared. She worked diligently, narrowing her focus to this one task with the intellectual concentration she had in all her practice at brewing tricky concoctions. She did her damndest to ignore Bellatrix’s humming and overall presence, not understanding the need to be watched, but not even thinking to dare raise a complaint. The entire process took three miserable hours, and Valeria was exhausted and overheated from standing over a boiling cauldron by the work’s end.

“Mrs. Lestrange?” Valeria called. Bellatrix rose, somehow unexhausted even after sitting idly for so long. Bellatrix reviewed Valeria’s craftmanship as she spoke. “It’s going well. It needs to sit on the minimum heat for a week, then it’ll need some specific stirring, but the hard part is done.”

“I’m impressed. It seems Severus was right about you,” Bellatrix said, approving of what Valeria had done, to the latter’s relief. “I know I’ve kept you up and I’m sorry to ask more of you, but there’s still a little bit of our stock left, and I think you could help me with one of our prisoners. She’s a former classmate of yours and sometimes, things are just easier for them to swallow from someone they know. Besides, you haven’t seen her since Christmas and I’m sure you’re itching for the chance to ask her your real questions. Think of it as a small reward for your hard work here!”

Valeria did not have to ask after Bellatrix’s meaning, but she swallowed her fear, locking away her guilt and dread where she put nearly everything else far back in her mind.

“Of course,” Valeria said, trying to muster a smile. Bellatrix didn’t seem to care how genuine Valeria was; The older woman was practically giddy as she removed a small vial from her robes and tucked it lovingly into Valeria’s hand. Bellatrix secured the door after they left the room and led the way to the cellar under the drawing room. Bellatrix cast a spell that sounded a loud bang in the cellar to wake up the prisoners.

“Where’s the blood traitor Lovegood?” Bellatrix called, illuminating her wand, as if asking Luna to come out to play, which made a chill shoot down Valeria’s spine. Footsteps came hesitantly closer and before long Luna Lovegood, exhausted and dirty, though largely unharmed, emerged from the darkness.

“Valeria—” Luna said, a little surprised to see her, but Bellatrix’s mood twisted into the familiar malice that all knew so well.

“How dare you speak to a pureblood witch without being spoken too, traitor! You will address her as Mrs. Malfoy, no more, no less!” Bellatrix yelled cruelly, her voice echoing off the walls, frightening Luna into submission. Bellatrix turned to Valeria. “She’s all yours.”

Valeria’s shoes echoed, heels clacking against the cold stone floor as she stepped toward Lovegood, who wouldn’t even look at her for fear of Bellatrix’s ire. Valeria opened the little vial of potion, trying not to shake as her hands worked.

“Drink,” was the only word Valeria could muster.

“What is i—”

“You’ve been given an order! You need to be sterner with her kind, Valeria. We’ll have to work on that. Remember who you are,” Bellatrix said, nearly making Valeria jump out of her own skin. Luna protested no further and, trembling, took the vial from Valeria, her hand ice cold as it touched Valeria’s. Luna took a sip from the potion, fortunately it wasn’t foul to the taste. Bellatrix stepped forward to join Valeria.

“Are you Luna Lovegood?” Bellatrix asked.

“Yes,” Luna replied.

“Are you or have you ever been, friends with Harry Potter?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been made aware of his whereabouts or plans outside of news reports since his disappearance?”

“N—no.”

“Have you, since Potter’s disappearance, aided or attempted to aid him in any manner?”

“Y—Yes.”

“Were you successful?”

“No.”

“That’s a relief. We’ll come back to that. I just have a few more questions. Are you fully aware of who the woman standing next to me is? Say her name, if so.”

“Valeria Malfoy.”

“Good girl. Would you consider Mrs. Malfoy your friend?”

Valeria froze and looked at Luna, her face was contorted as if trying to stifle an answer. Valeria too was beginning to panic.

“I—I don’t know.”

Bellatrix looked at Valeria with a satisfied, sinister grin that made Valeria’s blood run cold and the muscles in her legs tremble. “That’s an interesting answer, isn’t it? Let’s try this. At any point in knowing Mrs. Malfoy would you have considered her an ally?”

Valeria looked at Luna with a pleading expression, begging Luna to resist with her eyes. She knew it was possible; Veritaserum was never reliable to an absolute degree. It was possible to resist. Luna’s eyes filled with tears and she tried with all her might but failed.

“Y—Yes,” Luna spit out and Valeria felt as though the world around her was fading away, her heart on the verge of explosion.

“Why don’t you share why that is, I’m dying to hear—”

“Valeria!”

Bellatrix waved her wand at the sound of Draco’s voice and Luna fell unconscious to the floor. Valeria felt as though she was choking on her own breath as Draco’s footsteps came quickly down the cellar stairs and through the door. He stopped seeing his wife and aunt standing before unconscious Luna. His concern morphed to fear as he lingered his gaze on Valeria.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Your wife and I were just getting to know each other better, Draco, nothing to fear,” Bellatrix said.

“Valeria, upstairs. Now,” Draco commanded.

“What’s wrong? We were just getting started,” Bellatrix said, smiling.

“I’m going to wake my mother and—” Draco began.

“Going to run to mummy again, Draco? A real man would address his concerns himself without fear. Perhaps you’re much more like your father than I had hoped…” Bellatrix taunted.

“Valeria, go,” Draco ordered again.

Bellatrix sighed. “I guess we’ll have to finish our fun later.”

Valeria did not need to be told again and turned to go back up the stairs. She walked, her body taking full control of her motion unconsciously, back up the stairs and all she could hear was the sound of her heart pounding inside her ears. Once safe, as safe as she could be for now, inside her chamber she rushed to the bathroom, sweating and hyperventilating to vomit her dinner into the toilet. Panicked sobs came as she cleaned up as best she could. She could not sit down; She could hardly manage to breathe.

If Bellatrix were to discover her secrets, then surely a delve into Valeria’s mind would not be far off. Untrained in Occlumency, Valeria would be defenseless against Bellatrix. She’d see everything. Every lie, every sympathy, every time she undermined the Dark Lord’s broad agenda. And Draco…Draco knew about all of it. If a Death Eater was keeping secrets from the Dark Lord himself…

She could not think on it. Draco had been righter than he knew when he was angry with her for her actions in the past. She was sloppy, uncareful. She failed. She failed Draco in the one thing she promised to do which was to keep him alive. She put her hand on her chest, just below her neck, in an attempt to steady her breathing, but too felt the little vial underneath her clothes that hung around her neck. This is why she kept it, didn’t she? If it came down to saving Draco’s life over hers, she would, no matter what that meant.

She needed to prepare. She wouldn’t do it yet. She’d have to wait and see until the last possible second, but there were things she could do in advance and she had to move quickly. She went for the little cabinet in which she had stored the box that she and Lovegood had worked on in the first half of the school year. She steadied her breath and held her wand to her throat as she spoke.

“She’s married to my son, she’s our friend’s daughter, she has always been part of our world! She is not a blood traitor!” Narcissa shouted at her sister in the middle of the already lengthy argument in the drawing room.

“We have to be certain. She spent so much time with the Order—!” Bellatrix yelled back.

“If the Dark Lord is satisfied then you should be too!” Draco said.

“Your schoolyard crush on her clouds your judgement, boy!” Bellatrix argued.

“Don’t call him ‘boy’!” Narcissa cried.

“She is my _wife_!” Draco shouted, so loud that his throat hurt briefly afterward. “ _I’m_ responsible for her so if you have any doubts or suspicions, you come to _me_!”

Valeria shut the box closed and hid it away once more when she was finished. She dared not listen back to it for fear of her heart irreparably shattering by her own words. She felt anxious, hot. She had to get some air. She swung the balcony doors open and let the breeze cascade over her, but it wasn’t enough. Her robes were stuffy and hot and she desperately needed to change. She had no care for modesty in her panic and had on only a thick under-dress, when the chamber door opened.

She was relieved to see Draco there, tense and exhausted, securing the door behind him. Tears immediately came, unstoppable, as she ran to him. He caught her and brought her to him as tight and close as he could while she sobbed. He held the back of her head, petting hard for comfort’s sake, as he felt her fingers press into his back.

“I got you, I got you…” was all he could think to say, and he repeated it over and over. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled away from her, taking her face hard in his hands, looking down at that uncannily perfect face that now was stained with tears and full of terror; Seemingly lifetimes removed from her sly confidence, marked by an omnipresent cunning smirk that he had once fallen in love with. “It’s going to be alright. I promise,” he whispered, not fully believing it himself, for he was just as afraid as her, seeing himself in the intensity of her fear, but swallowed it down.

His hands moved from her face to her shoulders and his fingers brushed against the chain around her neck. Involuntarily, he glanced down and saw the little vial hanging there. She froze as soon as his eyes met hers again. She had been careless; Forgotten for the first time to remove or cover the necklace she had fashioned. Before she could step away, he wrapped his fingers around the vial to examine it, holding her there.

“What is this?” he asked in a whisper.

“Draco, please don—”

“What is this?” he repeated.

“Sleeping draught…” she lied pathetically.

“I know what a goddamn sleeping draught looks like,” he said. He removed it deftly from around her neck, lifting it over her head, and opened the vial to inhale the scent. “It’s got a sweet smell…This—This is the poison. This is the poison you made last year that almost killed Weasley…” he said quietly in utter disbelief. She stepped back from him in shame. He stepped toward her, face pale with shock. “Why?”

“Draco, I’m sorr—”

“Tell me why!” he ordered, flinging the little vial at the wall and it shattered behind him, the small amount of poison streaming down the wall.

“In case I needed it!” Valeria tearfully cried.

“What was your plan!? What could you need that for? What were you thinking!?” he shouted, trying to hold back panic and tears himself.

“If things became hopeless—”

“And so you were going to _kill yourself_ and leave me here?!”

“Listen—!”

“No, _you_ listen!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “How could you!? After everything we’ve been through and everything we’ve talked about over and over, you were planning this the entire time!?” He pulled up the sleeve on his left arm, the Dark Mark in full inky black color. “That promise we fucking made when I showed you _this_ , did it mean anything to you?!”

“It means _everything_ —!” she screamed at him, her voice ringing throughout the room.

“Apparently not as much as I thought! I meant every word of all of it. Even the vows…the fucking wedding vows, I meant every word I said!”

“What are you talking about?!”

“That I was marrying you even if it was bullshit! That I—I was going to be your husband, father of your children, be with you for everything for the rest of my goddamn life! Why do you think I have done everything I have to keep you safe?! I know I’ve fucked it up at every turn, but does it count for so little that you would even consider—”

“And I’ve done the same!”

“Really? Because the way I see it ‘for the remainder of my days’ doesn’t mean shit if you’re secretly planning to cut your days short! We had a fucking plan!”

“And yet we didn’t plan for the other possibility!”

“What does that mean?”

“The question neither of us wanted to ask. We planned what to do when this war ends either way, but not what would happen if we don’t make it!” she shouted. Draco fell silent, breathing heavily, turning away from her and shaking his head. “You’ve thought it too, Draco. I know you have. I have felt like I’ve been on borrowed time since I watched my own brother die right in front of me by _your_ aunt. And I have been, haven’t I, ever since you took the Dark Mark. So yes, I saved some of that poison last year because if it ever came down to saving your life or mine, I choose you every time! You can hate me, yell at me, think whatever you want. But I will not apologize for wanting to keep you alive.”

He was silent for a moment before he spoke again, this time in a normal, albeit hoarse, voice. “You’re missing the point.” He looked at her, taking a small step forward, holding back tears. “I cannot do any of this without you, whether we live or die, I…I can’t. I cannot live without…especially if you were to do…that for my sake.” He curled his lip inward and ran his hand through his hair, tearing up, despite his attempts to control himself, a couple streams of tears spilled out from his eyes. “This is going to make me sound like a fucking idiot, but I…I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. Or maybe not, I don’t know when it happened, but it doesn’t matter. The thought of you not being…” He stopped to compose himself. “When I think about it, nothing comes after. And I will not allow it to happen. You need to understand that.”

Valeria listened, trying to take it in, but ultimately failing. As she watched the boy she had known her entire life pour himself out for her, she became ill with love for him. Wanting nothing so desperately as to stop his pain. And it was then she learned, what she had so long failed to understand, that one does not know it when loves occurs. It is discovered long after the fact, when it has already been woven in with each thread in the fabric of one’s makeup. It strikes like a kick in the chest in a moment when it shouldn’t. The realization of which strikes fear in the heart and fills one with terror. 

“Will you say something, please?” he asked, now mere inches from her after softly approaching.

“I think I meant it too,” she said tearfully. Again, he took her face in his hands in the dead of night and kissed her in such a way that they shared both pain and relief. He told her he loved her, repeatedly, he could not stop saying it and he would keep saying it until she replied with what he needed to hear:

“I love you too.”

“Don’t you ever leave,” he commanded, perhaps begged.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the love and for sticking with me. As always, stay well and stay safe.


	28. The Bravest Thing He Ever Did

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic violence ahead. Diverging from canon here as well.

_"When do you think it fell apart?" she asked._

_"I'm not sure if it was whole in the first place," he said bitterly._

_*****_

_“What if they’ve forgotten about us?” Valeria frantically asked, nine years old, sitting under a tree on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. They had been out there for hours, or at least that’s how her young mind perceived time since they had lost their way wandering the expansive property._

_“They’re our parents, Val,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “They aren’t going to let anything happen to us, ever.” He had been pacing in the little grove they found themselves in, looking about and trying to get his bearings. He had yet to admit that he had gotten them utterly lost. Thunder groaned low in the distance and darker clouds were rolling in overhead, threatening to overtake the late afternoon sun._

_“I just got these robes. My mother’s going to kill me if they get ruined in the rain…” Valeria said._

_Draco scoffed. “She’s a witch, isn’t she? She probably knows a thousand spells that can clean robes. Don’t be dramatic.”_

_“Me? You’re the one who said you could find your way home with your eyes closed. You wouldn’t shut up about it and now look at what you’ve done!” Valeria argued._

_“You’re the one who wanted to see all the peacocks!” Draco said._

_“Maybe if coming here wasn’t so boring!”_

_“You didn’t have to come!”_

_“I wouldn’t have if my parents wouldn’t have made me!”_

_The thunder clapped again, a little louder, a little closer and both children were startled enough to jump out of their skin. Even Draco, who had been trying so hard to hide it, briefly paled with childish fear._

_“I’m faster than you. I can go see if I can get help—” Draco began._

_“No!” Valeria protested, panicked, getting to her feet. “Don’t leave me out here.”_

_“Alright, I’ll stay,” Draco said, annoyed. “But what do we do?”_

_“I don’t know. What if we’re stuck here forever?” she asked._

_Draco thought for a moment. “Then we’ll make our own way. You can gather berries and I can learn to hunt, and we can build a house and—”_

_Valeria was in tears. “We’re going to die!”_

_“No, we’re not,” Draco insisted, just as frightened as her, but trying stuff it down. “As long as we stay together—”_

_“Well, well, well. Looks like our intrepid explorers could use a hand.”_

_Both children looked up, shock and relief overwhelming Valeria’s expression as Konstantin came into view. He was tall, dark-haired and smirking, and he walked with a subtle, dignified swagger. The way the shadows, crafted by the rolling clouds overhead, danced around his eerily impeccable face made him appear more like a painted portrait than a young man in the flesh. Valeria properly burst into tears as she ran to her brother, wrapping her arms around him as she collided with him, eliciting a laugh from the older boy._

_Draco looked down in shame as he bashfully approached. He’d rather it had been his mother, even his father, who found them as much as they each would have likely scolded them. He looked up to Konstantin, admired him, and feared looking like an incompetent child in front of him._

_“I was so scared! I thought I’d have to live off roots and dirty water and live in a hut! And I’d be stuck with him forever and ever and ever and—” Valeria raved as she cried. Konstantin laughed as he pulled away from her, crouching down to her eye level._

_“I could hear you two squabbling from miles away. Reckon the Minister himself would have been able to find you from London before nightfall with how loud you were,” Konstantin said. He gently wiped away his sister’s tears with the edge of his travelling cloak. “No need to worry. I’d never let you stay lost for long.”_

_“Promise?” Valeria asked, sniffling._

_“You can bet on it. You alright, Draco?” Konstantin asked as Draco came to stand at Valeria’s side. Draco nodded._

_“I—I’m sorry that I got her lost, sir. She wanted to see the peacocks and I thought—” Draco said quickly, blushing. Konstantin laughed and put a comforting hand on Draco’s small shoulder._

_“Call my father ‘sir,’ not me. No harm done, Draco. And, trust me, I too have been known to lead a girl or two astray,” Konstantin teased._

_“What?” Draco asked. Konstantin looked away, realizing what he said. Sometimes he’d forget what to and what not to say around children._

_“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Konstantin said._

_“Are my parents mad?” Draco asked nervously._

_“More worried than anything. Your mother especially will be relieved to see you,” Konstantin said with a nonchalant shrug._

_“I’m still going to be in trouble…” Draco said. Konstantin adjusted in his awkward squat to face Draco directly._

_“Tell you what, we’ll make a deal, man-to-man. You promise not to get Valeria all lost again and I’ll be sure to tell your parents how you bravely stayed by her side when she needed someone the most. They can’t be too cross with you about that, can they?” Konstantin said._

_"_ _Really?!” Draco said, relieved. Konstantin stretched out his hand._

_“We’ll shake on it,” the older boy said. Draco took Konstantin’s hand and the latter gave it a firm, but friendly, shake. “Nothing wrong with embellishing the truth a little if it serves you, I say.” Konstantin stood up. “We best set off. That storm’s coming in fast and I’m starving.”_

_“We didn’t miss dinner?” Valeria asked._

_“No, but you’re very late. We waited for you though. That house elf—Dotty?—is keeping it warm for us,” Konstantin said._

_“Dobby,” Draco corrected._

_“That’s right. That one has a decent temperament for a house elf. I’ve met some really crotchety ones in my time…” Konstantin said._

Draco could not help but feel a pang of guilt and fear remembering the now dead man who found them on the grounds just outside back then. He doubted Konstantin Winters would be as merciful towards him as he once if he were still alive. Draco wondered too, as he had many times before, if the two of them should have stayed lost all those years ago as Valeria lightly ran her finger down one of the scars on his upper chest. He was surprised she ever noticed them, as they were so faint. Pomfrey had done her best, but like Snape said to him after the fact, _“With magic like that, the scars might never completely fade.”_

 _  
_Draco and Valeria had been keeping to themselves almost entirely, Valeria hardly leaving the chamber at all after her run-in with Bellatrix. Draco was wholly supportive. The tension between all the members of his family was palpable every time any of them were in the same room together. The last stronghold of security he had, the one thing that had been so constant his entire life, was unraveling. Though he grieved for it, he was beginning to come to terms with it. Valeria had made her terms clear; She never wanted to return to Malfoy Manor after they left Hogwarts for good and he agreed. There was no grand escape in place, but the most he could do was to have her stay at her home in Wales, even if he was called away. That would have to be enough for now.

The two of them were closer than they ever had been in every sense of the word. They had held off in engaging in physical intimacy, due to their paranoia of the consequences, but their resistance had buckled quickly under the weight of their urges and intensely aching yearnings for closeness. Though they were diligent in prevention of consequences this time around.

To Draco, the future was bleak, but at the very least he had one. The only future that he could envision had Valeria in it, all else was darkness and void. He had long given up on wanting more. He was too tired, too afraid, too weak. And so the tiny thread of her, upon which everything he could still care for was suspended, remained steadfast. He clung to it for dear life deep within him for though it had not been asked for, it was given, and proved to be strongest thread in the fabric of his life. Until the day, a short while later, that he let go.

Harry Potter, even decades later, did not like to remember that day. Though things were well for him eventually, it was well with him to forget it entirely. The subject did not often come up, but when it did, Harry would recall in silence that Draco Malfoy had surprised him, revealed something else of himself that day. That’s not to say any love or more than a drop of respect was gained between the two young men. But of the event Harry would someday say, _“That was the bravest thing Draco Malfoy ever did.”_

For now, Harry Potter had little hope of seeing the horizon, far less so than Draco unbeknownst to either of them. For though he was free to roam, in a sense, the walls were closing in on him like never before. He could hardly see through his swollen eyes as he was led into Malfoy Manor on the command of Narcissa Malfoy. He tried to peer around, get bearings on his surroundings, but gathered passing little in the entrance hall lined with proudly displayed portraits.

“My son and daughter-in-law, Draco and Valeria, are here for their Easter holidays. She’s spent more time with him, so if that is Harry Potter, she will know,” Narcissa said as she stopped before a rather large portrait on the righthand wall. Harry cocked his head to look at it and lingered long to make out the image. He was surprised to see the likenesses of Valeria and Malfoy staring down at him in the most austere fashion two young people could. It had been a long time since he saw either of them in anything resembling a good mood, but even he was shocked by how severe they were posed and their somber expressions. Although the grandeur of the painting tried to state otherwise, Harry could see naught but misery in his compromised vision. “Please send Valeria to the drawing room.”

The image of Draco nodded, and Harry thought he saw the likeness give his wife’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving the frame. Valeria’s likeness turned on Harry and lingered her gaze on him, making Harry feel more vulnerable than he already was. Despite it all, he had no desire to see them, even Draco, as mere images of bitterness who both refused to speak. Narcissa beckoned them to follow and Harry was forced, along with the other captives, to move. The drawing room was naturally just as ornate and imposing as the rest of the house, what Harry had seen of it at least. A figure rose from an armchair upon the small commotion of their entrance before the fireplace and Harry immediately recognized the voice of Lucius Malfoy.

“What is this?” Lucius asked.

“They say they’ve got Potter. I’ve called Valeria to come and check for certain,” Narcissa explained coldly.

“Perhaps it would be better to summon Draco,” Lucius said quietly as he looked the new arrivals over from a short distance.

“She’s spent more time with him. If anyone here could be absolutely sure, it’s her.”

“After what happened, I’m not sure—” Lucius began, a hint of dread and embarrassment in his tone.

“Give her a chance. Then there will be no doubt as to her allegiance and we can put it behind us,” Narcissa said in a harsh whisper. Even with his poor sight, Harry could see Lucius shift uncomfortably, unsure of whether his wife’s counsel was the correct path. Before he could speak in protest, the door creaked open as Harry’s terror grew. He heard the clacking of hard-soled shoes against the stone floor slowly approaching.

“You called me?” said the voice of Valeria Malfoy, ever polite in pitch, but sullenness too in her tone. Harry could hear Narcissa march to Valeria and the older woman guided the younger well around the captives and captors, careful not to get too close to the likes of Greyback and the Snatchers, before stopping a couple paces before the imprisoned. Harry kept his eyes down and refused to make a sound, but he could make out Valeria’s figure. Her robes were long, her sleeves up to the ends of her wrist, dull and dark in color. He could see, glistening in the light of the chandelier overhead, the rings on her left finger.

“There’s nothing to fear, darling,” Narcissa said, trying to sound motherly but failing to Harry’s mind. The elder woman stood behind Valeria, holding the latter’s upper arms. “They say they’ve caught Potter, but it’s hard to tell from the sight of him now. You’d recognize him better than anyone here. All you need to do is take a good look at him and tell us if this is him. Go on then.”

Greyback forced the prisoners to turn. Valeria took a step toward Harry as she tried to examine his face. He dared not look her in the eye as his fear and pain in his head compounded. She had to look up to see, being shorter than him. She lingered there for what Harry perceived as hours before she spoke, and he could feel her breath as she did.

“His face is just…There’s no way for me to be absolutely sure,” Valeria said, to Harry’s surprise.

“This is an opportunity, Valeria. Look harder,” Lucius said with anxious anticipation, coming to his daughter-in-law’s side. “If you are the one to recognize him, there’ll be no more doubt—” The door opened behind them, more furiously this time, interrupting Lucius.

“What’s this? What’s happened, Cissy?” said Bellatrix Lestrange, and Harry thought he could hear the smallest of fearful gasps from Valeria as the girl before him took a frightened step back; A sentiment that Harry shared. Harry heard Bellatrix walk around the group to examine the captives as Narcissa explained the situation yet again.

“But we need Valeria to be sure, and she can’t tell with his face in such a state,” Narcissa concluded as Bellatrix stopped at Valeria’s side.

“What a gift, little Mrs. Malfoy,” Bellatrix said childishly, which made Harry internally cringe. He averted his gaze as he saw Valeria stiffen at Bellatrix’s touch and he thought he saw, though he could not be sure, her likeness moving between figures within another framed painting on the wall, watching. “Don’t you see, this is your chance! You name him, and you will be beyond rewarded. Your names, old and new, will be entirely redeemed! Just one word, girl, that’s all you have to say. Understand?” Valeria nodded and Bellatrix urged Valeria forward for a closer look again. Harry could make out Valeria’s chest moving quickly with her shallow breath as she stared longer at him, looking him up and down.

“I—I’m sorry, ma’m,” Valeria said, her voice shaking. “It’s possible it’s him, but I cannot say for sure.”

“What about the mudblood?” Greyback asked as he forced the prisoners to turn again so Hermione was well-lit, front and center.

“Yes, I’ve seen her. Isn’t that Granger?” Narcissa said.

“Valeria,” Lucius quietly pleaded. “Valeria, please.”

“You know what you have to do,” Bellatrix said darkly.

“I don’t…It’s possible. I’ve never seen her in such a state. The Order has used Polyjuice Potion before too…I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Valeria said fearfully.

“You lie!” Bellatrix shouted.

“She’s not wrong, Bella!” Narcissa argued. “We must be absolutely certain before we call the Dark Lord. I’ll go get Draco so he can see—”

“No! She must prove herself alone!” Bellatrix demanded. “Is that your final answer, Valeria?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t—” Valeria began, but before she could finish, Bellatrix cursed Valeria, casting the latter’s body hard onto the floor. Harry heard Hermione yelp, barely audible, beside him and could see even some of his captors were taken aback.

“Bellatrix!” Lucius shouted as Bellatrix pointed her wand squarely at Valeria. “You will _not_ harm my daughter-in-law in my house!”

“This is the Dark Lord’s house, Lucius!” Bellatrix spat. “Your son was charged with bringing her into the fold and it appears he failed! The girl needs to learn!”

“Don’t talk about Draco like that!” Narcissa commanded, but Bellatrix acted as though she did not hear her sister’s protests. The next thing Harry heard made his blood run cold. Valeria screamed in abject agony, drowning out all other sound, including the furious shouts of both Lucius and Narcissa. Harry remembered that scream, having heard it from Valeria on the Astronomy Tower the night of Dumbledore’s murder. He could see clearly then, distinctly remembering the inhuman way Valeria gasped, writhed and convulsed as Draco stood helpless in tears.

Bellatrix relented and the screaming stopped. Vocal chaos ensued from Draco’s parents as Bellatrix stepped towards a panting Valeria, still on the cold floor, but neither raised a wand at the cruel woman. There was a thud, Hermione gasped again, and Valeria cried out in pain. Harry could not see what was happening, but Hermione could, and she watched in horror as Bellatrix took Valeria’s jaw roughly in her left hand.

“Such a pretty face, just like your mother. I can see why my nephew likes that face so much. It always struck me as strange how Odessa, your whole family, could manage to look, be, just so effortlessly perfect. A whole bloodline of porcelain dolls. Perhaps it’s time for a makeover,” Bellatrix taunted and before anyone had time to protest, Hermione’s breath hitched as she watched Bellatrix drag the tip of her wand diagonally across Valeria’s face as if it were a knife she held. Valeria screamed again while Bellatrix laughed as blood flowed out from the cut Bellatrix carved. Once finished, Bellatrix threw Valeria back on the ground, the latter covering her face instinctively with her hand as she fell.

The room was silent, and Harry could hear Hermione’s trembling breathing, terrified of what he could not see happen. The only sound was Valeria’s poorly controlled, pained and quiet sobs.

“What have you done?” Narcissa asked darkly after the moment of shock had passed.

“What should have been done long ago, Cissy,” Bellatrix spat. Bellatrix turned to the captives, prepared to speak again, but the door burst open with a bang before she could.

“What’s going o—” came the familiar drawl of Draco Malfoy who marched into the room, before stopping short near Harry. Harry dared not look up at Draco but could see the latter’s taller figure and white blond hair out of the corner of his eye. If Harry’s vision had been normal, he would have seen Draco’s face turn white as his eyes landed on his wife on the other side of the room. Draco’s wedding ring glistened briefly under the light as he rushed past Harry, calling out her name with a fear in his voice that Harry had seldom heard from anyone before.

“Draco, stay calm,” Lucius said with a nervously dark tone. Hermione watched as Draco ignored his father’s explicit order, and the boy’s frantic expression gave forth to outright panic. Draco knelt on the floor and hoisted Valeria into his arms, her body jumping a little at his touch out of instinct. He lifted her face to meet his and, though his back was to Hermione, she saw his body hold perfectly still upon seeing Valeria’s face for the briefest of moments as though he had been petrified. Valeria was still quietly weeping, shaking, and Draco whispered something inaudible as the others seemed too unable to move. Save for Bellatrix, who had a sickly satisfied smile across her lips.

It was not until Draco turned his head to look at Bellatrix that Hermione saw yet unreleased tears of unbridled fury in Draco’s eyes as he clutched Valeria’s tired and trembling body.

“How dare you!” Draco said through his teeth, the ferocity of his voice echoing off the walls. “Why wasn’t I called?!”

“It didn’t concern you, Draco,” Bellatrix said with a casual tone of childish sass.

“She’s my wife! I told you if it concerns her, it concerns _me_! What could she possibly have done—”

“It’s what she wouldn’t do!” Bellatrix shouted before directing his attention to the captives. “She knows it’s Potter and his friends. I can see it in her eyes, but she refuses to name them. You’ve been married off to a traitor, Draco.”

“She’s not!” Draco cried out.

“It was your duty to teach her and since you weren’t up to the task, I did it for you! You should thank me for stepping in after you’ve failed twice over!”

“Stop it!” Narcissa ordered.

“She’s loyal to me and therefore to the Dark Lord! Are you mad?!” Draco argued, he stopped himself for a moment. “She could be pregn—”

“Draco?” Lucius said as if he did not understand and the room briefly fell silent again.

“Draco, is that true?” Narcissa asked, her cold voice now weak with horror.

Bellatrix laughed. “Oh, I doubt that. Have you managed to do your duty, Draco?”

“Don’t be vile, Bella!” Lucius ordered.

“It’s possible!” Draco shouted in defiance before turning to his aunt again. “And that is none of your concern.”

“Following orders and the prosperity of pure bloodlines is _all_ of our concern,” Bellatrix protested. Draco ignored his aunt and began hoisting Valeria carefully off the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Getting her out of here!” Draco spat.

“No, you’re not. We aren't finished here,” Bellatrix said. Lucius approached his son.

“Draco, we still need to know if we’ve captured Potter or not,” Lucius said quietly.

“Look at her!” Draco shouted in desperate disbelief.

“We will heal her later,” Lucius hissed anxiously. “This is a matter of life and death, Draco!”

Draco looked at his father with disgust but nodded and held Valeria up as he brought her to an armchair away from the others and sat her down. Harry caught a glimpse of Valeria silently clutching her face in her hand and Draco whispered something to her before returning to the others.

Valeria paid no mind to what happened next. Her throat was dry and sore from all her screaming as Draco was given the task to identify Potter, who she recognized as soon as she laid eyes on him, despite what had been done to his face. She didn’t know how Draco would answer, nor did she care. All she could think on was her face throbbing in pain, her eyes shut tight to avoid blood dripping into them. Her hand had been pressed firmly to her face long enough that her palm was sticky with blood and she feared the pain that would occur if she lowered it.

It was not long before the Malfoys had figured out who exactly was captured, and Valeria would have figured as much had she been of rational mind. Bellatrix was angry again. Valeria could hear the woman’s voice rise, though her words were in one ear and out the other. Valeria felt only fear, only pain. Draco had returned to her side and his presence was the only thing he wanted. He gently lowered her hand, guiding it with his touch, whispering things she didn’t quite catch. His wand pointed at her face, casting spells to stop the bleeding, which had already subsided, and to ease the pain. Valeria did not know which of the variety of pains she felt was the worst and Draco’s efforts did little to soothe her.

A fight broke out between Bellatrix and the others. Over what it was, Valeria could not say. Draco was called to deal with the aftermath, but refused to leave Valeria’s side, from what she heard. Her eyes still shut tight, she envisioned her brother’s lifeless corpse, as it was when she wept over it in the Department of Mysteries. The woman who killed Konstantin had now marked her as well. She tried to shove the memory away, focus on the chaos ensuing now, but each time she tried the image of Konstantin would return stronger.

Weasley was yelling now. Hermione was screaming as she herself had screamed just a few minutes prior. The sound made her shake harder and stronger. Draco was called away from her side at Bellatrix’s command again and this time he obeyed. Draco returned. More screaming. More panic. Wormtail was called. All Valeria saw was her brother’s corpse. All she heard was Konstantin crying out her name before he was felled, the sounds within and without of her mind coupling, rising in volume, like the howling of wind on the precipice of a raging storm.

Weasley shouted. The cellar door burst open. And then all fell quiet. It was only then that Valeria managed to overcome the struggle to open her eyes. She watched over the scene as Draco, still near her, was called to collect the captives’ wands before returning. His attention was hyper-focused on his aunt, who Valeria could see, as her eyes readjusted, held a knife at Hermione’s throat.

“The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!” Bellatrix cried out triumphantly. Valeria looked at Bellatrix with more unadulterated hate than she had ever known herself to feel. The Dark Lord had promised Valeria vengeance and she wanted it now more than ever. Though she didn’t realize it, she knew that this would never end unless she acted. She didn’t see Bellatrix, her kin by marriage, she only saw a monster. Valeria reached into her robes with her bloodied hand and removed her wand with an iron grip wettened by sticky blood.

She stood and stepped forward, raising her arm and pointing her wand at Bellatrix’s head. Her fear was gone, and cold, concentrated hatred rushed into to fill the void left behind.

“Valeria!” Draco called out.

“Anyone moves and I’ll kill her,” Valeria said, low and cold.

Bellatrix laughed. “This one’s for Greyback or haven’t you been listening?”

“Not her. You,” Valeria said through her teeth. The oppressive tension in the room only came down harder, but Valeria did not notice.

Bellatrix clicked her tongue. “That’s a very, very bad choice you just made, _Mrs. Malfoy_. Think of how sad your poor husband’s going to be after we’ve dealt you.”

“You killed him,” was all Valeria responded.

“Yes, the ‘Fallen Hero’ Konstantin Winters,” Bellatrix said sarcastically, after taking a moment to understand Valeria’s meaning, followed by a cackle. “That was always the trouble with your family, girl. They were so worried about themselves that they all lost sight of the goal eventually.”

“You _killed_ him!” Valeria repeated.

“Your filthy, mudblood loving brother deserved it and I’m more than happy to do the same to you—”

That was all Valeria needed to hear.

“ _Obfocia_!” Valeria cried as Bellatrix ranted, stopping the latter’s words in her throat as Bellatrix choked and gasped for air. If Valeria’s mind had not been so far-gone, she might have impressed herself with how well she managed to target Bellatrix and miss Granger entirely, but technique could be further from her mind. Only vengeance lived within her. Only the satisfaction she received from watching Bellatrix’s eyes bulge out of her skull and her face change color as her body went into panic.

She heard her in-laws and Draco shouting around her, but she didn’t care nor make out their words as Bellatrix fell to her knees. Valeria was so focused on enjoying Bellatrix’s suffering that she did not notice Draco rush up behind her. He grabbed her hard, nearly tackling her, and ending her hold on the curse at the last second before Bellatrix slipped into unconsciousness.

Draco gripped her tight as he turned her around, standing between her and his aunt, drawing his own wand while his mother screamed at him to stop. Bellatrix gasped for air as she picked up her knife again and quickly stood, grabbing Hermione once more. Bellatrix was coughing as Valeria readied herself to act again, having nothing more to lose, but before she could the chandelier above them creaked.

Then it fell.

Valeria didn’t see what occurred across the room, but she felt Draco shove her back with enough force to knock her to the floor, her wand slipping out of her grasp thanks to her bloody hand. The chandelier seemed to explode by the force with which it hit the ground, broken glass all around as it crashed.

Harry acted, his last chance at escape before certain death. He got to Draco, who was holding his own bloodied face, cursing in pain, and took him by surprise before Valeria could to get to her feet. Harry wrestled to get the wands out of Draco’s grip and the latter yanked, bringing Harry closer.

Close enough for Draco to whisper spitefully through his teeth, “If you escape, take her with you.”

Harry had no time to respond, nor to process the request, but he felt Draco loosen his grasp on the wands just enough for Harry to easily pull them from him. Harry acted again, using the wands in the ensuing skirmish, but Draco turned to go to Valeria. He forcefully pulled her to her feet, rougher than he intended, adrenaline coursing through his veins, while shouting rang out all around them. Draco had an iron embrace on Valeria, holding her so close to his body that he could hardly breathe, and she gripped to him too, burying her bloody face in his chest.

Draco watched as Potter grabbed the goblin and dashed for his family’s former house elf. So much happened in the next few moments, hardly even seconds, that even years afterwards it blurred in Draco’s memory. Potter gave him a look as he joined his friends, a knowing one, a signal that this was Draco’s last chance. Draco stifled back the tears that pricked back at his eyes. Draco held Valeria tighter than he ever had one last time and leaned down to her ear.

“Stay alive. I love you,” he whispered quickly, and he kissed the top of her head hard and inelegantly, looking up to see Harry awkwardly try to outstretch his arm whilst holding on to the house elf and the goblin. Draco turned on his heels.

And Draco shoved.

Draco shoved Valeria away from him as hard as he could. She reached out to him as he did, their fingers touching for a flash of a moment. He looked into her eyes one last time, helpless upon his release, as she fell backward. Time seemed to move slowly for Draco as he read shock and fear in her eyes. He looked at her as long as he possibly could, for that fraction of a second.

And then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for some clumsy structuring (and of course the typos that I missed) here. I don't like to include canon verbatim whenever possible, so that means I have to dance around it some. This time that meant jumping perspectives (as if the events weren't chaotic enough already.) Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos. They're very encouraging and I really enjoy reading them. As always: Stay well, stay safe.


	29. The Broken and The Whole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild magical and non-magical violence and some graphic descriptions of injury ahead.

_"Do you think we'll be able to forgive them?" she asked._

_"I don't know," he whispered._

_*****_

Valeria felt the wind knocked out of her as she landed face down on hard ground. A wheezy gasp escaped her followed by uncomfortable, involuntary coughing as she realized she had nearly inhaled sand. She heard the sea nearby calmly lapping at the shore with a low grumble. Her ears rang as she weakly moved, trying to lift her torso off the ground and opening her eyes. Short, thick blades of grass poked out from the cool sand and stabbed at her palms as her chest heaved, trying to regulate her breath.

Her coughs had alerted the others. She had landed further away from those she traveled with in the suddenness and chaos of the moments prior, she would soon realize. For now, she was in a primal state of disorientation compounded by terrorizing confusion. Each time she blinked she saw Draco, his arm outstretched towards her as it was mere seconds ago. Small, bloody cuts on his face and his eyes wide with fear and heartbreak. Valeria could at least conclude she was not dead, the pain in her face and stinging of her lungs as she coughed told her that much, but that was all the certainty she had. All she could do was try to breathe. Breathe.

“Valeria...?” a soft, nervous but compassionate voice said close to her ear. It was Lovegood, Valeria recognized that unmistakable voice. Valeria was partly up now, holding her torso off ground, her fingertips clawing into the beach and cold sand under her nails. She slowly turned to Lovegood, her own long hair obscuring her vision some.

“Draco...Where’s Draco?” she managed to say in a weak, breathy voice. Surely, he was rushing to her now. He must have landed further off. He’d be at her side any second.

“Let me help you,” Lovegood said softly, but as Lovegood’s gentle hand touched Valeria’s arm, adrenaline flooded her veins and Valeria instinctively recoiled. Clumsily she turned over, pushing herself away from Lovegood with her legs, the length and thickness of her robes limiting her mobility. Shuffling herself along the sand, she fumbled for her wand and stumbled to her feet. It was then that her whole body began to shake, the chilly spring breeze rolling off the sea making her teeth chatter. She could make Lovegood out in the darkness, bundled in a coat, her hands held out in a calming manner one would use to attempt to calm a frightened beast. Valeria raised her wand at Lovegood, but the trembling of her muscles made her wand tremble in kind; She probably would have been unable to cast a spell at the broadside of a barn in such a state. All her cold concentration of minutes ago was gone and Valeria could feel grains of sand dig into her hand as she tried to steady her wand with an iron grip; The sand having stuck to her bloody palms when she propped herself up.

“It’s alright! You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you,” Luna called out, her voice higher in volume.

“Where am I? What is this?” Valeria said in a raspy voice. “Where’s Draco?!”

“Bill and Fleur Weasleys house. You came with Harry,” Luna explained simply. Valeria remembered her body colliding with another before landing on the sand. She looked behind Luna, seeing light from inside the windows of a small cottage nearby and smoke rising from its chimney. Valeria’s eyes darted around, trying to adjust to the darkness, looking for Draco. Another figure was sprinting towards her, but he had a different build, long hair. Not Draco. Bill Weasley stopped sprinting, taking a sidestep between Valeria and Luna. He looked shocked at the sight of her but swallowed down his surprise and expressed a serious calm before he spoke.

“Valeria, I’m Bill Weasley. Do you remember me? You were at my wedding—”

“What the fuck is going on?!” Valeria shouted into the night.

“I don’t know the whole story. You came with Harry Potter. We’ll get the answers soon, but you’re injured, and we need to make sure you’re alright. I just need you to lower your wand and go with Luna into the house,” Bill explained slowly and rationally.

Valeria was beyond rationality. Her head pounded in pain and she shut her eyes tight as she winced through the throbbing. She saw Draco’s face again. She remembered the fear, the torment and torture. The way Bellatrix’s throat made a crackling sound as the woman choked for air. Valeria’s heart quickened faster than her breath could keep up.

“Draco...I need to see Draco. Where’s Draco?” She demanded through panicked breath, hardly able to get the words out. Bill didn’t understand what she was saying, but Luna did and stepped forward.

“He’s not here, Valeria,” Luna said softly. Valeria’s breath hitched and she gulped for air as her mind realized what had happened faster than her conscious thoughts could. The realization overwhelmed her psyche as it dawned on her. She shook her head back and forth. 

“I have to...I have to go back...” she mumbled, thinking aloud. Both Bill and Luna took a panicked step forward. Another figure was sprinting toward them. Bill drew his wand slowly.

“No!” Luna shouted.

“He’ll kill him...he’ll kill him...” Valeria mumbled out, tears in her eyes. She saw Draco’s face again.

“We can’t let you do that. Let us help and we’ll figure everything out,” Bill said, negotiating as he inched toward her. Valeria turned on him, aiming her wand between his eyes as best she could.

“Give me a fucking reason, Weasley,” she threatened.

“If you go back, they’ll kill you too!” Luna cried out.

“Valeria, I don’t want to have to force you,” Bill said aiming his wand.

“She has a ward,” Luna told him. Valeria looked toward who had joined them, recognizing Dean Thomas who had been amongst the prisoners, she briefly remembered.

“Don’t do this,” Dean said weakly.

“I don’t care!” Valeria shouted. She pictured Malfoy Manor clearly in her mind, preparing to apparate nearby. Bill recognized this and cast a spell at her, which caused her only to stumble backward, thanks to her ward. But he cast the same spell two more times in rapid succession, overwhelming her and the ward. Valeria suddenly couldn’t keep her eyes open, as if she was forced into falling asleep. She felt her arm lower and her body go limp before the world turned to darkness and silence.

Bill managed to catch her right before her body hit the ground once more and Luna took her dropped wand from the sand.

“What are we going to do about her?” Dean asked in a rightfully worried tone.

“We have to help her,” Luna insisted. Bill nodded.

“She’s right. We’ll get her cleaned up, make sure she’s okay. Then we’ll talk to Harry and the others. Wasn’t expecting any of you. Let alone a Death Eaters wife,” Bill said, somewhat at a loss. Bill found a comfortable way to carry Valeria’s unconscious body and Luna could not help but feel, despite everything, a tinge of heartbreak for her as she lay limp and bloodied in Bill Weasleys arms.

Draco was too young to ever give serious thought to his death for the majority of his life thus far. If he ever did, he expected it’d be at a very old age after a long, accomplished life with a proud legacy to live on after him. Not cold. Not bloodied in battle. Not alone. Nonetheless, he was certain now. This was final.

Even now he hadn’t the time to make sense of anything else save to accept what he believed would be his inevitable demise. There was only empty air where Valeria stood just a fraction of a second prior, as fleeting as breath, and the room fell silent with the terror of impending doom.

“Draco...” his mother, who had been watching her son like a hawk, said weakly. “What have you done?”

He couldn’t answer. He felt as though he had been ripped in half. He had hardly registered what he had done himself. It didn’t matter. Potter was gone as were all the other prisoners, and Valeria, whom he had been responsible for vanished with them. The Dark Lord was on his way. The Malfoys had no time to make up a story. There would be no talking their way out of this. Not this time.

“Draco, to your room. Now!” His father commanded in panic. But it was far too late for a second after Lucius spoke, the Dark Lord arrived and whatever bravery Draco had still within him evaporated. He choked on his own fear, as if he was hovering one foot over the edge of a cliff, one gust of wind away from tumbling to his death. His fears were not far from reality.

The Dark Lord, rage unsurpassable, blamed Lucius, his favorite scapegoat. Bellatrix tried to save her own skin, which made the Dark Lord more furious. She was punished and Draco, forced to watch, had never seen his formidable aunt so weak, tearful or emotional. What the Dark Lord did to her was far worse than what Valeria had done and perhaps it would have been mercy if Draco hadn’t stopped his wife from finishing the job.

But it was Lucius who took the fall for Draco. On a dime, an instinctive paternal impulse, Lucius explained Valeria’s disappearance. How Potter violently pulled her from Draco’s arms in order to weaken them. It was a feeble excuse and it was unclear whether the Dark Lord bought it, but he was too furious about the loss of Potter to read Lucius’s mind for the truth. Only Lucius and Narcissa had seen what Draco had done. Bellatrix’s attention had been elsewhere when it happened, otherwise Lucius would have been killed for his disobedience without trial or remorse, Draco was sure.

Bellatrix’s failures paled compared to Lucius’s in the Dark Lord’s eyes and his record was worse. Narcissa painfully gripped Draco’s wrist as they watched the Dark Lord unleash his full wrath on Lucius. Draco’s mind went numb, he dared not feel, as he watched the man who once struck fear in the hearts of his enemies become little more than a convulsing pile of flesh under torture. Screaming. Pleading for mercy from the merciless.

Draco was not spared either.

He repeated Lucius’s story to the Dark Lord, too afraid to meet his leader’s eyes, stuttering through the tale. The Dark Lord, as Draco figured, didn’t care about Draco’s excuses, only his failure. The Dark Lord himself had charged Draco with Valeria’s entire being and as he so often told her, anything that were to happen to her, whether his fault or hers, would fall on his own head.

“You have failed in your responsibilities once more, Draco. Like father, like son,” The Dark Lord said cruelly before unleashing his rage onto him. Draco could not hear his mother’s muffled cries as she helplessly watched her son writhe on the ground uncontrollably. Draco could only hear the sound of his own screams throughout the ordeal.

Narcissa ordered Draco to his chamber once the Dark Lord’s fury was momentarily sated. She helped Lucius away regrettably, as he needed aid far more than Draco did at the time. Draco shut his chamber door and sat on the sofa, still trembling, hardly able to move or think. He could not hold his head in hands for fear of digging bits of glass further into his skin. He let his head go limp as he tried to regulate his exhausted breath. He looked down at his weak shaking hands, remembering his final act of desperation. These were the hands that pushed her away just so soon after making her promise not to leave him behind. These were the hands that still reached for even as he let her go. The ones that were now a bit bloodied, both of their blood having mixed, indistinguishable, remembering how he pulled her hand away from her face to see that deep, bloody cut and how his worst fears had come true in that moment. They were the same hands that too once groped for the warmth of her body in the long, lonely nights in the Manor while he loved her.

He pulled at the sides of his hair as he tried not to sob, tears starting to sting his eyes. He couldn’t look up, as the room was covered on all sides with the memory of Valeria. Her clothes hung in the wardrobe, her belongings on every surface, her photographs lined the walls and even her scent, one that Draco could never quite fully describe, faintly lingered. She was haunting him now, just as she had those summers she was missing. Uncertainty plagued him. Could he trust Potter to bring her somewhere safe? Would Potter hate her and be crueler to her than she deserved? Where was she? He didn’t know Potter well enough to say, judgement clouded by his own resentment for his schoolyard nemesis and what had become of his family because of the boy who lived.

Draco knew hope was dangerous. It was dangerous to the Dark Lord and their mission, but it was also dangerous for him. It was a trap, he knew all too well, but he could not help but hope that she was somewhere far away, being tended to. Anywhere was better than Malfoy Manor in the end. Valeria would not have been allowed to live long after what she had done to Bellatrix, whether by the Dark Lord’s hand or his aunt’s. Draco tried to recall, his memory made murky by all the chaos, what came over him.

Draco Malfoy was not brave. He did not take risks such as this. He broke rules, when it suited him, naturally. Certainly, at times, his feelings would get the better of him and he would act rashly, though he was likely to deny the accusation. But brave, a person who leapt before they looked, safety and consequences be damned, that was not who he was. Surely, not anymore, if ever. It puzzled him now, causing his own soul to feel as though it were in a state of suspended animation. He let himself go, let himself weep, and each time he did manage to look up, he would see all the evidence of his wife’s memory around the room and weep more. A draft would blow through every so often as he sat on, lonelier than he had ever been, carrying her scent with it, and his eyes would well up again even as he thought his tears had been spent.

Draco Malfoy didn’t take brazen, uncalculated risks. He did not act without thinking, if he could help it. But he felt he had no choice but to save Valeria’s life and the only way out was with Potter. Maybe his act had not been as bold as he thought. Depending on the truth of Potter’s character, he may have only prolonged Valeria’s doom. The only thing Draco was certain of, as uncertainty ate him alive, was that if he could buy her time then he was willing to pay the price; A price which he continued to pay even after the Dark Lord’s departure.

Draco knew he fell short in every vow he made when they married, as much as he once meant them. He was to stand by her side for the remainder of his days, and now she was gone, the two of them ripped apart again. But how could he, barely more than adolescent boy, have possibly lived up to the role his father once told him was now his; That of man, that of protector.

Perhaps, Draco wanted to believe, he had done more to answer that call, to be the man that she needed him to be, with one shove than he ever had in all the years he’d known and loved her.

His hope left him again when the chamber door flew open and his parents stormed into the room. His mother rushed to him, whispering his name, and immediately began the quick work of healing Draco’s wounds, being the only amongst the three of them who had a wand. His father took stock of his son and then began pacing about, unraveled. Narcissa gripped Draco’s arm once she had finished with his injuries.

“What happened? What were you thinking?” she asked through her teeth, tears still in her eyes, her fear palpable.

“They would have _killed_ her,” Draco said. There was a crash, his father had angrily thrown something across the room.

“Lucius!” Narcissa scolded bitterly.

“And so _you_ decided to thrust her right into our enemies’ laps!” Lucius said, ignoring Narcissa.

“I wasn’t going to let her die!” Draco shouted. “What would you have done if it had been mother?!”

“I would have kept her close! We would have solved this—”

“You saw what Aunt Bellatrix did to her! I wasn’t going to allow—”

“You don’t _allow_ anything. This is my house—”

“This is my house too! When _you_ married us off, it became mine too. Isn’t that what tradition states, _father_?!” Draco spat.

“How dare y—”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Narcissa cried out before returning to Draco. “You have to tell us the truth. Is Valeria pregnant?” Draco had forgotten all about that half-hearted lie he told, just to get his aunt to stop tormenting Valeria. Draco shook his head and looked away, blushing.

“I don’t…No, I don’t think so,” he said honestly. They had been wise enough to take precautions in their most recent trysts since the post-Christmas scare. There was hardly a chance in hell Valeria was pregnant, but he wasn’t going to divulge that much to his parents. Lucius approached, a calmer renewed interest in his son’s life.

“Are you absolutely certain? This is much more dire if she’s carrying your heir,” Lucius said. Fury erupted in Draco again.

“I don’t give a damn about my bloody heir!” Draco shouted, revolted by the thought.

“You _must_!” Lucius said through his teeth, his voice resembling a growl. “It was your duty to serve as an example and to father an heir, sooner than later, and—”

Draco rose to his feet, despite his mother’s reaching for him. “My duty was to keep _my_ _wife_ safe!" 

“And you thought that sending her off with the most wanted person in our world would accomplish that? Use your head! You were, and still are, responsible for her. I told you the night before your wedding that you had a duty to be a man and look what’s happened because of your actions! No man would do what you have done—” Lucius ranted. Draco stepped closer to his father, shaking now with fury rather than fear.

“You have no place to talk!” Draco shouted. “You allowed the Dark Lord to marry us off at seventeen! We tried and tried to do as we were told, here and at school, but you’ve done nothing but cower in a corner ranting about the Malfoy name and your goddamn legacy!”

“Draco—” Narcissa tried to interrupt, but Draco ignored her, staring into his father’s maddened, exhausted eyes.

“After everything that’s happened to us, happened to _her_ , in _your_ house! She’s your friend’s daughter, his last child, and if Hieronymus Winters were alive he would kill you where you stand after what you’ve done to his daughter!” Draco ranted on.

“Stop it!” Narcissa commanded, but Draco ignored her once more.

" _I_ kept her safe all through last year up to tonight! _I_ watched over her at school! _I_ looked out for her, hardly let her out of my sight this entire time and _I’m_ the one who took the Dark Mark to save all our bloody lives while you did nothing!”

“You will not speak to your father like this,” Lucius warned through gritted teeth.

“You told me to be a _man_ so I will talk however I damn well please!” Draco cried out. “ _You_ brought us into this to begin with. _You’re_ the one that failed, over and over. _You’re_ the one who lost our name its respect. Everything, every fucking thing, that has happened, is _your_ fault! And I will not be told I’m not a man by someone who hasn’t even had a _wand_ for almost a year!” Draco shouted still, unleashing years of resentment that he did not even realize he had upon his own father, his once storied hero. Lucius, just as stubborn, even more defiant, brought his hand back and struck his son across the face hard enough to knock Draco back a step. Draco began to lunge at his father, but before he could get close enough, Narcissa had already stepped between them.

“No!” she cried out, desperately with more anger in her face than Draco had ever seen in his life. She turned on Lucius. “You will _not_ raise a hand to him! Ever!” Narcissa said at the top of her lungs. “Get out!”

“Narcissa—” Lucius said.

“Get out!” she screamed again, and this time Lucius obeyed, not even daring to look at Draco as he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Narcissa turned to her son whose chest still heaved with rage, ignoring the stinging of his face. She calmly approached and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me,” Narcissa said and Draco obeyed in silence. “You need to control yourself, now more than ever. Do you understand?” Draco was rapidly losing the strength to argue and only nodded. Narcissa removed her wand from a pocket in her robes and put in Draco’s hand. “Whatever happens, you need to keep yourself safe.” Draco nodded again as his mother backed away. “Rest for now. While we can.”

Without another word she marched out of the room, still furious and Draco was left alone once more. His rage collapsed into fear and heartbreaking pain, suddenly overwhelmed with the amount of loss he had suffered through. He looked around, seeing Valeria’s face in photographs and her belongings scattered about the room. Consumed by impotent desperation, he kicked at the little cabinet close to him as hard as he could, rattling it open. Out fell a little box, that he recognized to be the Magical Theory project Valeria had worked on over the first half of the school year. Startled, he picked it up.

With a shaking hand, he opened it, hoping against hope just to hear her voice, even if she was only reciting something read aloud from a book. To his relief, her voice rang out clear, just as it would if she were standing right in front of him. But the first word sent a shock through his system and he sat down on the edge of the bed they shared for so many nights as he listened.

_“Draco._

_If you are hearing this, it’s safe to assume something has happened to me. Whether it was outside of our control or if I took matters into my own hands. You’ll know that better than I do now. I don’t know how long it’ll be until you find this, or how long it’s been since you once apologized to me for not being the man I wanted or needed. I don’t want you to feel sorry for that anymore. I never did, not really. It was you, the only one, man, woman or being, that was there. Who sought me, who saw me, when I needed someone to. For that, I can only thank you. Consider yourself absolutely absolved in my eyes. If no one sees it, know I do._

_I know you regret things. I do too. I didn’t want it to be like this. I feel like I never got to meet you in the right way. Maybe if I could have met you properly, when we were different; if such a thing could happen, maybe it would have been different. Maybe it all could have been something else._

_It’s nice to think of us being happy. But I don’t need to be happy, I need you. I make my peace with that now. As much as I couldn’t stand you in years past, I love you for those failures too. You were awful at times, but you were alive. You were bright. Somehow you always drew me back. I don’t know how you did it and I, at one point, would have thought that I’d be the last person to fall for it. Not that any of that really matters anymore, but I’m trying to say that I still remember you, see you, for what you were. I know that of you still._

_I know you still as the boy who loved to fly. Who admired his betters and did what he could to be like them. Who could be kind in private, when he wanted to be. Who knew me the best of anyone else and for once chose not to flaunt that. Who sacrificed for my behalf, against my advice. Who laughed and swaggered with aggravating pride, even though you didn’t deserve to. Who once held me with respect, maybe tenderness, when we were alone._

_I want you to remember the best of me too, though I cannot say when that was. Maybe I left the best parts of myself in different places at different times. I’m sorry I’ve left you to put that woman back together in your mind. Maybe remember my face and manners, how hard they always were to maintain. Maybe my passion for the things I was gifted in, despite my indifference to the things I was not. I danced well; Perhaps you’ll remember that. Remember that night I snuck some mead at the Yule Ball. The day even earlier that I was scared when you got us lost on the Manor grounds as children. When I saw you again on the train and I never felt more at home the summer after the Department of Mysteries…_

_I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I was stubborn, defiant, reluctant and angry. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I was so very proud. I’m sorry for my secrets and the lies I did not reveal until I was sure you wouldn’t hate me. I’m sorry for not seeing things your way or admitting you were right in the rare instance that you were._

_I want you to go on in whatever world awaits you, even a hopeless one, despite my failures. If you cannot find happiness, I want you to have peace, if only for a little while. I want nothing less than for you to be able to see the stars and smile a little. To move through this world with some dignity. To find tenderness in your most private moments. You are worthy of that. You have suffered enough._

_I know we didn’t want this, but we have it. As much as I wish it didn’t happen, I can say I’m glad that at least it happened to us, together._

_I love you with all that I have, the broken and the whole.”_

Draco wept as he listened to the words, over and over, until he collapsed in exhaustion, falling into an uneasy sleep as sunrise came, lulled by the sound of her voice.

Harry had done what he needed to do. He tried not to linger too long with his grief at Dobby’s murder, at least for now. He spoke with Bill and Fleur, trying to get them to understand the severity of his predicament without revealing too much. It was a difficult task and Fleur seemed to be barely tolerating it. Even Bill tried to talk Harry out of speaking to the injured before they fully recovered, but they relented. Except when it came to Harry’s urgent need to speak to Valeria Malfoy.

“Zat girl ‘as been through hell!” Fleur said defiantly, tensing up at Harry’s request. “She needs to rest.”

“She’s married to a Death Eater, Fleur. The longer I go without talking to her, the more of a danger she is to all of us.”

“Harry, she had the most urgent injuries other than Griphook. She needs to heal,” Bill said, stepping in. “I had to put her to sleep because she was trying to go back. She’s confused, completely out of sorts, raving. She’ll be completely unpredictable if you wake her now.”

“Do you understand how dangerous she is? She could have the Dark Mark herself—” Harry insisted, annoyed.

“I do. She’s in _my_ house, remember? But I also think a terrified, sleeping girl is no danger to any of us for now. And she doesn’t have the Mark. Fleur checked,” Bill said.

“Can I at least see her?” Harry asked. He didn’t know exactly why he wanted to see her, but he wanted to see for himself. He was paranoid, perhaps, but with good reason. He knew Valeria knew about the Horcruxes, at least had been told a little about them and he knew Valeria was smart enough to figure things out, if given the chance. He had to see for himself. He had to. Fleur, however, remained unconvinced.

“Will you wake ‘er?” Fleur demanded. Harry shook his head.

“I’ll let her be, for now,” Harry promised. She looked to Bill and reluctantly nodded. Bill directed him to the little room they put her in, behind a magically locked door upstairs so she couldn’t flee if she awoke suddenly. Harry gestured for Ron to follow, who came reluctantly too, despite still wanting to watch over Hermione. They shut the door behind them in the little room and lit the small lamp on the short wardrobe nearby, as the morning was not quite upon them.

“Jesus…” Ron remarked, looking at Valeria. Harry shared his sentiment. Though she was now clean and wearing some of Fleur’s spare clothes to replace the ones soiled with sweat, blood and sand, the healing cut on her face was clearer than before. She was thinner, Harry noticed, her bones poking out of her skin a little as if sculpted from stone. Her skin made her look ill too, and though she slept deeply, she still looked exhausted. If her chest had not been slowly moving up and down, Harry would have thought that she was a corpse. “Why’d you bring her here, Harry?”

Harry bit the inside of his lip as he inhaled, searching for an answer. It was hard to see her look so weak and pathetic and still consider her his enemy. Harry tried to stifle his sympathy, but was failing. Even Ron’s pointed question was asked with an empathetic whisper.

“Malfoy told me to,” Harry responded simply, taking Ron aback.

“Why would he…?”

“I think he thought Bellatrix would kill her,” Harry said, telling Ron how Malfoy had grappled with him for the wands and made the request himself. Ron was surprised, but suspicious, thinking on the events of the night.

“Maybe it’s some sort of plot. Maybe he’s trying to get her to spy for them or—”

“I don’t think so. She didn’t identify us when she had the chance, neither did Malfoy, remember?” Harry said. Ron’s caution was wise, but Harry just couldn’t completely buy it. “And look at her, Ron. After what she did to Lestrange, do you really think she’s a spy?” Ron looked at Valeria again, sympathy overcoming even him too. Harry gently reached for Valeria’s left arm, limp at her side, and pushed up the sleeve to see nothing, to his relief.

“What’d they do to her?” Ron asked quietly, referring not only to the events of the evening, a few moments after Harry carefully tucked Valeria’s arm beneath the sheet. Harry’s eyes caught the rings on her left hand as he pulled the cover back over her. She didn’t stir, but Harry felt for her upon seeing them, though he could not quite make sense of how he felt. Harry didn’t have an answer, but he turned around sharply as the door creaked open behind them. Luna walked in, still bundled in Fleur’s coat and joining the two boys, crowding the room. Luna stayed far enough back, but there was clear compassion in her eyes as they almost voyeuristically watched Valeria sleep. Harry could not help but recall how intimidating Valeria once was. Amongst a sea of nervous first-year students, it had been Valeria who approached the sorting hat with her held high, a serene poise about her. She walked the halls of Hogwarts with her gaggle of giggling friends with a relaxed pride. Even her freakishly perfect face, which had always creeped Harry out some, was marred by the mark Bellatrix left on her face. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d believe that this girl and the Valeria he remembered could never be the same person.

“You saw her at school, Luna,” Harry began. “What happened to her?”

Luna let out a sad little sigh and shrugged defeatedly. “I can’t say for sure. She was…difficult, to say the least.” Luna was choosing to keep some of Valeria’s sins to herself, at least for now. “In a way, she was just as much a prisoner as I was.”

Ron scoffed a little. “A prisoner with a feather bed…”

“Maybe,” Luna retorted. “But, now that it’s over, I think I rather have been in that cellar than in her place.”

Harry looked over at the little cupboard, at a loss of what else to say. Valeria’s soiled robes were lazily draped on it, Fleur must have been rushing to get the girl cleaned up and tending to her wounds. Beside it lay her wand, which Harry handed to Ron, muttering about how Fleur should have confiscated it. Harry then went for the serpentine bracelet, glistening some still in the low light of the room. He turned it in hand, examining what he figured was a near priceless object and he could not help but think of Malfoy.

He saw Malfoy’s torture before, through Voldemort’s eyes, and it was then he truly understood the gravity of his enemy’s sacrifice. Harry was still astonished, confused even, that Malfoy had it in him. After feeling his stomach turn, seeing what he saw, Harry almost wished there was a way for him to get a message to Malfoy without risking everything, just to tell him that what he did was worth it. _She’s alive. She’s safe for now, Malfoy._ It wasn’t over, Harry knew. There was still much to discuss, now saddled with the burden of having Valeria around. He felt strangely guilty for what happened to her and a little annoyed too that he had yet another thing to worry about now. But he could not say that he would not have done the same in Malfoy’s position, and he was bound by his own sense of justice to honor that.

Harry kept hold of her wand when he spoke privately with Ollivander and his friends some time later. As the old man examined the wands, trying to determine their utility for their purposes, he was certain about the fact that Valeria’s wand would remain loyal to her, as it had been confiscated rather than won. Harry and his friends agreed that they should still hold onto it, given Bill’s report about her emotional unpredictability, for now.

“This wand…Valeria Winters—erm, _Malfoy_ rather. Curious case. Rowan wood does not bend easily to the darkness, but this wand’s core, dragon-heartstring, does. This wand would be very temperamental for you, unless won,” Ollivander reported. Harry did not care so much for the interesting remark, but Hermione seemed to understand something deeper about it. Once leaving Ollivander to rest after the lengthy conversation, the trio had a moment to discuss Valeria. Hours had passed and she would be waking soon. They needed a plan before that.

“We can’t just send her away. She knows too much and who knows what’ll become of her if she’s found,” Hermione said.

“So what? Just leave her locked in that room until the war’s over?” Ron asked.

“That puts Bill and Fleur too much at risk. Like Hermione said, she knows too much,” Harry said. Ron waited a moment before the realization dawned on him.

“Are you trying to suggest we take her with us?!” Ron asked.

“We don’t have to decide anything now,” Hermione reasoned.

“She’s Draco Malfoy’s bloody wife! We need to do something!” Ron exclaimed.

“And that’s part of why we need to keep an eye on her,” Harry said.

“What good would that do? Luna says that she was helping Snape and the Carrows back at Hogwarts, she’s a liability! She’ll turn on us the second she gets the chance,” Ron said.

“Luna also said that she has more reason to hate them than a lot of us and, I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I sort of agree with her,” Hermione said. “But he’s right too, Harry. It’s a huge risk.” Harry didn’t know what to do, he was completely at a loss and almost a little angry at himself that he allowed Valeria to come along with them in the first place. He hadn’t been thinking about the complexity of this outcome at the time. “And…there’s also what Malfoy said. That she could be, you know…” Hermione finished with a whisper.

Harry sighed. He had forgotten all about that. If there were a way to keep her subdued, then perhaps they could have brought her with them, maybe with the Imperius Curse she might have been useful. But she would be in no condition for such a perilous journey if she were carrying a child. Even Ron’s annoyance was quelled by the realization, compassion returning involuntarily to his expression.

“Do you think she…You think she actually is? I don’t even know if Malfoy would want to do that to her…” Ron said, disgust in his tone.

“It’s impossible to tell right now,” Hermione said. “But Malfoy said it was at least a possibility.”

Ron let out a frustrated groan. “What the fuck are we going to do about her?”

“She saved our lives at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She did it again last night. We at least owe it to her to hear what she has to say,” Hermione said.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the trio, Valeria started to stir. She felt dull aches in her muscles as she began to move about. She reached out across the bed, as she so often did when she would awake suddenly at Malfoy Manor, trying to feel for Draco. Her eyes flew open when her fingers made contact with a cold wall. Her head spun as she sat up, taking in her surroundings as the sunlight peaked in through the curtains. She did not know where exactly she was, but not being at Malfoy Manor frightened her and her fear escalated to panicked terror as she recalled the night before.

She got out of the small, old bed her body still aching and she realized she wore someone else’s clothes, seeing her soiled robes across the narrow room. She rummaged through the robes, shaking looking for her wand and her eyes fell to her naked right wrist; The ward was missing too. It was then, Valeria knew, that she was a prisoner again. She rifled through the cupboard’s drawers, searching futilely for the few belongings she remembered having with her, letting out a little yelp when she caught her reflection in a handheld mirror in one of the drawers.

Trembling, she lifted the mirror up into the light to see her face. She hadn’t expected to look her best, her glamours would have long worn off by now, but it was the long red mark diagonal across her face like a crack in stone that hastened her breath. She had yet to have seen the results of Bellatrix’s cruelty. She held the mirror as she searched desperately for her wand. She knew enough beauty spells to fix it, she figured. She glanced back and forth from the mirror to her search, frustration and panic increasing with each passing second until on the verge of eruption.

Her countenance, one thing she had been trained her entire life to maintain. The visage that was at one time a sign of prestige and power, that became a mask, and now a shield was shattered. She would not, could not, allow it. She needed to fix it…If she could just fix it.

But to no avail. Paralyzed and yet in a frenzy, she let out a cry that resembled a frustrated scream and hurdled the mirror at the door, its glass shattering with a clamor as it hit the hard wood and then the floor. The clatter, meanwhile, stirred the trio from their dreadful conversation and Bill Weasley rushed past them, wand at the ready.

“Winters is up,” Bill said, already exacerbated. Enlivened by the severity of the situation, Harry and his friends darted after him, knowing full well that no one was ready for whatever was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was long, I'm sorry, but there was a lot to get through. Thank you ALL for the lovely comments and kudos. The support is really encouraging. Stay well, stay safe.


	30. Memory Returned

_"What you did was stupid," he insisted._

_"I found a way, didn't I?" she replied._

_*****_

Valeria’s eyes widened as the door burst open and she scuffled back towards the other side of the room. In entered Bill, followed by the trio, wands extended and faces fearful. Valeria’s hateful gaze landed on Harry.

“Where’s my wand?” Valeria demanded. Harry stepped forward.

“We just want to talk,” Harry said calmly.

“Where’s my bloody wand, Potter?!” Valeria shouted.

“It’s safe! We have it—”

“Why am I here?!” Valeria shouted again, completely unraveling.

“Sit down, calm down and we will sort this out. I’ll explain, alright?” Harry asked, growing frustrated. His words appeared to do little to soothe her fears, her chest heaving still with shallow breath and eyes filled with frightened tears. Harry could not help but pity her. At least she complied with his request and was quiet, for the moment. “Bill, can you give us some time?”

“You sure?” Bill asked. Harry nodded and Bill excused himself, shutting the door behind him once more. Hermione and Ron came closer, reluctantly lowering their wands.

“You’re at Bill and Fleur’s home, far away from Malfoy Manor. You came with us,” Harry began, knowing the next part was going to be difficult to say. “Malfoy…he asked me to take you with us.”

Valeria felt the shock of his words make her blood run cold. “What? He wouldn’t…Why?!”

“He didn’t explain,” Harry said. “When we fought over the wands, he told me to take you with me if we managed to escape and he’s the one that pushed you into me right before we disapparated. That’s all I know.”

Valeria held her breath for a moment, the terror rising up again and she shut her eyes tight, seeing Draco’s face as it was when he pushed her into Potter’s outstretched arm once more. She remembered feeling his shove, but in all the confusion had yet to string the events together properly. She knew, if anyone at Malfoy Manor saw, if they knew…when the Dark Lord arrived to find her gone...She burst into tears, slowly sinking to her knees, sliding down the wall. Hermione instinctively rushed to her side, but Valeria recoiled from her touch as she wept pathetically and helplessly.

“He’s going to kill him,” she managed to sputter out, her gaze falling on the wand in Harry’s hand, recognizing it. “And you stole his wand!” Harry kept his distance, but crouched to her level, absolutely stunned by what Valeria had been reduced to.

“He’s alive,” Harry said.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Harry said. “I have a connection to You-Know-Who and I can sometimes see visions through his eyes. He didn’t kill Malfoy.” Harry was reluctant to reveal that information, Ron too was stunned by it, but she had to know, she’d never get off the floor if she didn’t.

“He wouldn’t let him get away with that…” Valeria said.

“He didn’t, but he didn’t kill him. I promise,” Harry said, not wanting to go into the details of what he saw. It seemed he didn’t have to as Valeria understood his meaning and sobbed again.

“I have to go back,” Valeria said, gulping through her tears. “I can’t leave him there. I told him I wouldn’t leave him behind…” Hermione grabbed Valeria’s arm.

“Malfoy sent you away for a reason, Valeria. It’d be suicide to go back and you know that. Malfoy knows that. He wouldn’t want you to come back,” Hermione argued. Valeria remembered Draco’s parting words; _Stay alive, I love you._

“No one’s gonna hurt you here, Valeria. You’re safe for now,” Harry said. Valeria’s tears soon became exhausted and she calmed, though her mind was racing with worry and anger. “We still need to talk.”

“Haven’t you had enough, Potter? After everything you’ve done…” Valeria said.

“Believe me, we don’t like it either, but we’re stuck with you now and we all need to be on the same page,” Ron reasoned, though Hermione did give him an accusatory glare.

“Fuck off, Weasley,” Valeria spat.

“She’s even starting to sound like Malfoy,” Ron muttered under his breath and Hermione shot him a second warning glare.

“We need to know whose side you’re on, Valeria,” Harry said. “Where you _actually_ stand.”

Valeria let out a defeated laugh and shook her head. “I spent months trying to explain to your friends that I am on the side that keeps Draco alive. That’s all that matters to me.”

“And what about the rest of us? Do you even care what You-Know-Who has done to everyone else—” Ron said.

“I _lived_ in his world, Weasley! I mean what I say,” Valeria said.

“What do you mean that you told our friends?” Hermione asked.

“At Hogwarts they were trying to rebel, constantly getting in trouble, making everything worse for the rest of us. They kept trying to get me to help them and wouldn’t listen—Longbottom, Weasley’s sister, Lovegood and all the rest of them. They just wouldn’t get it,” Valeria spat. “I can’t tell you why they thought I’d help them.”

“Even after what you said at Harry’s birthday? Your brother’s letter?” Hermione said.

“You too?! What are you talking about!?” Valeria shouted, but stopped herself short. “How do you know about my brother’s letter?” The trio exchanged confused looks. Hermione summoned a piece of parchment from her bag and handed it to Valeria and the latter silently read the words, _Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are formally invited, per this invitation to the Winters' Castle, at any time, date and at their convenience. Signed, Valeria T. Winters_. If the invitation hadn’t been in her own distinctive chicken-scratch penmanship, Valeria would have called it a forgery.

“Valeria, you read it to us. Don’t you remember?” Hermione asked before Valeria could speak. Valeria wracked her brain at Hermione’s request but recalled nothing.

“That…That doesn’t make sense. I never—”

“You did,” Ron said. “Your brother, he talked about that girl, that muggleborn girl—”

Valeria turned all her anger on Ron at the very mention of Jane Masters. “Don’t talk about her!”

“She’s been missing for a while, they said so on the radio…” Hermione thought aloud as she remembered.

“She’s not missing,” Valeria said, well beyond aggravated. The trio looked at her, dismayed.

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked. Valeria swallowed at the painful memory, but they had to know. She had to make it clear exactly where she stood.

“She’s dead,” Valeria said simply. “It happened months ago, before term even started. She was being held in the cellar and I…he told me to go fetch her and I did. And she begged me not to, but I still did. Then, he told me to use the Cruciatus Curse on her, and I _did_. Then he killed her, right there in front of everyone.” Valeria’s voice shook as she told the short tale, but they did not seem to notice. Instead, they only gaped at her in horror. “I told you, I lived in the Dark Lord’s world. I know what happens to anyone who disobeys, so don’t try to make this about what side I’m on. I have done and will do whatever I have to do to keep Draco and I alive.”

“Valeria, you were forced…” Hermione tried to say, perhaps not fully believing it herself. “Luna told us a little, how you did help them at Hogwarts…”

“I didn’t torture Longbottom in detention, but I did in Darks Arts class,” Valeria insisted. “Did she tell you the rest? I gave them the password to Snape’s office, but I also told Snape they had a plot. I couldn’t keep help them forever, could I? Not while they kept pushing.”

“You got Lovegood kidnapped, she told us,” Ron said.

“Draco put me up to it. I didn’t know that was going to happen,” Valeria said in her defense.

“And yet you still want to help him…” Ron said.

“Because he’s been at my side through all of this! Far more so than any of you!” Valeria shouted in fury. “All any of you have ever done is destroy and then celebrate your victories while we pick up the pieces! But none of you ever thought of that did you? All you do is push and push until we’re left no choice. Your sister _deserved_ what I did to her, Weasley!” Her voice was bitter, hateful, unrighteous, but she had nothing to lose and she was too infuriated to keep her mouth shut.

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked, pale. He raised his wand and stepped toward her. “If you so much as looked at her wrong—”

“Lovegood leave that part out too? The curse I used on Lestrange, it’s called the Strangulation Curse. That wasn’t the first time I used it, Weasley,” Valeria said darkly.

“You _bitch_ ,” Ron spat, and he raised his wand higher, but Hermione leapt to her feet to stop him as did Harry.

“You have Draco to thank for her life!” Valeria shouted as Ron struggled against his friends. “He’s the one who stopped me!”

“Shut up!” Harry called back. Valeria had never been proud of what she did to Ginny in that moment of weakness. If she had taken the care to search her heart of hearts, she would find that she was not proud of it now, but her anger overcame her. This little bit of power at her most powerless, this little bit of her own pain projected onto them, gave her sinister satisfaction. They had to know that she had no interest in aiding their cause, however she had to convince them. Ron eventually stormed out of the room and slammed the door, spitting in Valeria’s direction before he left. Hermione chased after him, not looking back at Valeria either. She was then left alone with Potter, who too looked at her with bitter anger, but was himself too exhausted to let his rage fly free. He stared Valeria down before he spoke again.

“Tell me everything, from the beginning. Start with what happened after we left Bill and Fleur’s wedding,” Harry said darkly. Valeria still felt as though she had nothing to lose, and so she did as Potter asked. He didn’t say a word as she recalled everything she could remember, her mercy and her cruelty. She left out the intimate details of her life with Draco, the private conversations they too had, but was sure to make it clear that her loyalties rested with him alone. Harry looked at a complete loss as she described the place Hogwarts became as it descended deeper into darkness over the course of the year.

“I have a few questions,” Harry said when she had finished the tale after a long stretch of time.

“Fine,” she said with a small huff.

“Your marriage with Malfoy, I still don’t understand. Why would You-Know-Who do that? Why would he care?” Harry asked.

“You have been gone a while, haven’t you? He said it was Draco’s reward for the assassination of Dumbledore, but it was a punishment, obviously. Another way to humiliate us for our families’ failures and for Draco not following through on killing Dumbledore himself. But it was also meant to be an example to other young, purebloods too. A test run of the old ways; Arranged marriages. If we succeeded, then others would be expected to follow. If we failed, well whatever he did to us would then be a warning to everyone else,” Valeria lazily explained as though it were old news.

“That’s cruel…” Potter said, almost absentmindedly. Valeria fiddled with the rings on her left ring finger.

“Of course, it is. It was meant to be,” Valeria said.

“What Malfoy said…about you maybe being…y’know, is there any truth to it?” Harry asked, blushing. Valeria had completely forgotten about that. It was perhaps technically possible, but she very much doubted it, given how careful they had been. She shook her head.

“No. No, I wouldn’t think so. I imagine he just said that to…get Bellatrix to stop,” she said. Harry looked down and nodded in understanding, silently acknowledging what she had gone through at Malfoy Manor.

Harry shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “Did he ever…force y—”

“No,” Valeria said darkly. “He never hurt me once. Think what you want of him, Potter, but he’s not a monster.” Fortunately, Harry let it go at her answer.

“Why did you save us?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“Even if you didn’t know it was me, you knew who Ron and Hermione were. Why didn’t say anything? It would have made your situation better,” Harry said pointedly. Valeria had to think on the question. She didn’t exactly how to answer. The truth was, she didn’t know. She remembered recognizing Potter, and his friends, but when it came to confirming who they were, she just couldn’t get the words out. She did not want them to die, not because of her. Maybe, somewhere deep down, she knew that Potter was the only chance to end her misery once and for all.

“I’ve hurt enough people, Potter,” she said, really all she could manage to say. She didn’t know if Potter was satisfied, but there was little more to say. They looked at each other, sharing a sort of regretful, knowing look in peace and quiet for the first time. “What’s going to happen to me?” Valeria asked, taking Harry aback some at how meek her voice sounded in contrast to her taunting fury of before.

Harry let out an exacerbated sigh. “I don’t know. I have to think.” He took a breath. “You’ve made a lot of choices that I just can’t understand.”

Valeria nodded, understanding his meaning. “It’s a lot easier to make the right choices when everyone around you is too, Potter.”

Harry took a moment to himself, but left Valeria there with only a nod of acknowledgement to seek out his friends, who he found having a hushed conversation with Bill and Fleur. He pulled Ron and Hermione aside and told them everything Valeria had disclosed to him. Hermione’s expression twisted as Harry shared the details and even Ron’s rage quieted some at the tale, though he was by no means forgiving.

“Harry…I think Snape must have changed her memory,” Hermione said.

“What?” Ron asked and Harry agreed.

“He was the one who interrogated her when they first brought her to Malfoy Manor, and I doubt he would have left her mind unsearched after she spent so much time with us. Then she suddenly has no memory of the Horcruxes or saying she wanted to help us,” Hermione explained.

“That would mean that Snape knows,” Harry said, his heart dropping with horror.

“And why change her memory? That doesn’t make sense,” Ron said.

“There’s one way to find out,” Hermione said, setting back upstairs to Valeria’s room where the three of them found her looking out the window at the sea, unhappy to see them all back again. Hermione explained her theory to Valeria and for the first time the latter and Ron agreed on something. Valeria too felt it was preposterous that Snape, the Dark Lord’s right-hand man, would do such a thing. Hermione took out her wand and Valeria took an instinctive step back.

“I can try to restore it, if you’ll let me. If I’m wrong, then at least we’ll know,” she said. Valeria looked from the wand to Hermione.

“You know what you’re doing?” Valeria asked, remembering Flitwick’s many lectures on the trickiness of memory charms.

“Feel lucky that it’s her and not me, Winters,” Ron said, his anger surfacing again. Despite the comment, Valeria could at least admit that Hermione was the best suited for the task. Perhaps when they found nothing, they could put the issue to rest for good. Valeria sat at the edge of the bed and Hermione stood with her wand aimed at Valeria’s forehead.

“ _Memoria perditus restituo_ ,” Hermione muttered. Valeria felt as though her mind were opened up like a book as scenes flashed before her eyes, overwhelming her senses. They were blurry, even the voices sounded muffled, but the longer Hermione held the incantation, the clearer they became.

Valeria saw Snape standing over her in the dark cellar of Malfoy Manor, his form swirling into shape as the memories returned.

_“You have knowledge that is more dangerous than you can comprehend. Unless you are an extremely skilled Occlumens, you cannot leave this cellar with those memories in your head. Do you understand?”_

The scene changed again, she was writing on parchment and then handed it to Granger. The words she scribed were clear: _Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are formally invited, per this invitation to the Winters Castle, at any time, date and at their convenience. Signed, Valeria T. Winters_

Once more the scene changed, she saw words in a book as she stood by Granger and in big bold letters she could read: _HORCRUXES_.

Finally, the scene changed for the last time. She saw herself at Harry’s seventeenth birthday party in tears and clutching a long piece of parchment in her hands.

_“I want to help you.”_

_“I know things.”_

_“I want, should the opportunity come…to bring Draco into the fold too.”_

Hermione released her from the spell and Valeria felt nauseous from the experience and hoped that she would manage to not vomit all over Granger’s shoes. The trio watched her with bated breath as she composed herself, as she realized what exactly she had done all those months ago. She had declared herself a blood traitor in front of everyone and Snape knew. Valeria was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt and shame, her humanity returning to her bit by bit. That’s what Ginny had been talking about, what she had told her other rebellious friends. That was why they kept coming to her for aid and were irefully surprised by her outright refusal and eventual malice. It all made so much more sense. She held her face in her hands, grasping the severity of everything.

“Did it work?” Harry asked impatiently. “Do you remember anything?”

“Snape…he did it. He altered the memories,” Valeria said nodding slowly.

“Holy shit, Hermione, you were right,” Ron said. Hermione bent down to meet Valeria’s eyes.

“Do you remember the conversation we had? When you gave me that invitation?” Hermione asked. It was clear in Valeria’s mind.

“Horcruxes…” Valeria said, still reeling from the experience of having her memory restored.

“Fuck,” Harry said under his breath. Hermione looked up terrified at her friends.

“If she knows…” Ron said.

“Then Snape knows,” Hermione concluded.

“Let’s go, we need to talk,” Harry commanded.

“Wait!” Valeria called out. “Can I go get some air?”

“No,” Ron scoffed as if it were obvious.

“Yes, she can,” Hermione insisted.

“After all that you just want to let her roam about doing god knows what—?”

“She can’t do much without her wand,” Hermione said. Harry turned to Valeria.

“Do whatever you like,” he said before leading Ron out of the room, following by Hermione. “Let’s go.”

Valeria waited until the sound of their footsteps were gone and slipped on her shoes, which did not remotely match the garments Fleur had put her in. Tentatively, she left the room and slipped out the back door, avoiding looking at anyone, instinctively ashamed of the cut on her face received for the sin of not wanting to see Potter suffer. She stepped out onto the beach a short distance away from the house and towards the sea. She found a dry spot near the shore and realized that she had forgotten to borrow outerwear as her body shivered in the breeze that blew over her. She stared at the sea in silence, letting her mind wander and she inhaled the salty air in an effort to calm her rattled nerves, mesmerized by the way the waves came in and out with little crashing sounds. It took some time, but eventually she found an uneasy peace and felt a little relief, at least for now.

Feeling the wind, just harsh enough to chill her face but not enough for her to mind, she realized she was being touched by true honest sunlight for the first time in what felt like years. The oppressive darkness of Hogwarts, the cold drafts that blew through the empty corridors and dungeon classrooms, was far off. Even the intense, feverishly hot air of her chamber in Malfoy Manor was nowhere to be found.

But it made her eyes water, the wind nearly freezing her tears in place so they would not fall, nor could she bear to allow them. _Draco would like this,_ she thought. He was still at the forefront of her mind despite everything that happened that day so far. She wondered at what air he felt, what loneliness and fear swirled around him just as the wind did her now. She recalled dancing at the edge of the black lake in the magical wind he made years ago, fallen leaves lazily carried and whipped around her to join her gentle spins and the air laughing with them.

His absence gutted her as she became anxious with needing to see him again. She would sometimes glance back at the landscape behind her, imagining she would soon hear a pop followed by the shattering sound of him calling out to her. She ached to imagine him arriving suddenly to take them both far away where no one could find them. Of course, he never did, no matter how intensely she wished it. At points, she thought she could hear his voice or see his form in the corner of her eye, but it was only the wind. It was only shadows.

She lingered like that for a while, not keeping track of the time. She was so caught up in her own whirling thoughts as the wind whipped her hair about her face that she hadn’t heard Lovegood approach until the latter quietly said her name. Valeria looked at her surprised and then quickly hid her face away.

“What can I do for you, Lovegood?” she asked with a small sigh. Valeria then felt warmth drape over her as Luna put a cloak around her shoulders and sat by her side.

“You looked cold,” Lovegood said.

“Thanks,” Valeria replied as she pulled the ends of the cloak around her, finally shielded from the wind. There was a pause that passed between the two young women before Luna spoke again.

“You won’t go back there, will you?” Lovegood asked. Valeria shook her head.

“No. Draco wouldn’t want that,” Valeria regretfully admitted.

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” Lovegood asked.

“Yes,” Valeria answered with a nod. Lovegood didn’t respond, though Valeria could sense the former had more to say on the subject.

“What will you do now?” Lovegood asked.

“That’s up to Potter, isn’t it?” Valeria said with a small, bitter laugh. “If I stay here, it’s only a matter of time before we’re all eventually found and killed. If Potter somehow gets out of this alive and wins, then I’m sure there’ll be a cell in Azkaban waiting for me.”

The remark got Luna’s attention, but as far as Valeria could tell, it was over. Those were the only two possible outcomes for her predicament if she stayed put. These people all knew who she was, what she’d done. Despite her brief affiliation with the Order of the Phoenix, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that it would come close to redeeming her in their eyes. Especially since she refused to apologize for doing what she felt she had to do, regrets and all.

“I think Malfoy must have trusted Harry, even only a little. Otherwise, I don’t think he would have done what he did,” Luna said. Valeria didn’t ask what Luna thought Draco would have possibly entrusted Potter to do with her.

“I just think he didn’t see much of a choice,” Valeria said. The way she saw it, Draco had made an impulsive, sacrificial decision and there was little more thought behind it. It had yet to be determined, for anyone, if it was the right choice.

“Maybe it can be both,” Lovegood replied and paused before speaking again. “I’m sorry I made it harder for you. I tried not tell Bellatrix, but the potion was stronger and—”

“It’s fine, Lovegood. It’s over. It shouldn’t matter to you one way or another,” Valeria said, knowing it wasn’t Luna’s fault regardless.

“It’s not over for you though,” Luna said.

“Why do you care?” Valeria asked, growing impatient with the unexpected company.

“You came down to talk to me when I was in that cellar. That was a risk you didn’t have to take. I know we’re not friends, but that doesn’t mean I want anything—”

“I did that for me,” Valeria insisted. “I went to check on you because I was sorry about landing you down there in the first place.”

“Some people might call that a conscience. It’s okay if you don’t see it that way, though. I understand,” Luna said. Valeria pulled the hood of the cloak so Luna could not see her roll her eyes, doubting Lovegood understood much of anything sometimes. “Food should be almost ready. We should go back inside.”

“Not hungry,” Valeria said.

“It’s up to you, but I don’t think Malfoy would want that either,” Lovegood said as she stood and walked away.

Valeria eventually did wander inside after Lovegood departed once the wind became too oppressive. Fleur was thankfully alone in the kitchen and her cheerful attitude that Valeria so well remembered was now overcome with tension, clearly expressed in Fleur’s expression. Valeria thanked Fleur for the meal, remembering how Fleur had always been the kindest to her in her stay at The Burrow.

“Can I ask you something?” Valeria asked, holding the warm plate in her frigid hands. Fleur nodded with a soft smile, trying to be friendly. “My face…do you have anything for the scarring?”

Fleur’s smile faded into an expression of pity and regret. “I’m sor’ry. I tried eev’rything. With dark magic, eet zometimes leaves marks forever, such as thees.” Fleur was trying to be gentle, but Valeria looked down at her plate, losing her appetite once more. Fleur noticed Valeria’s dismay. “But eet iz like my Bill! ‘Ee’s scars don’t make ‘eem less ‘andsome!”

“Thank you, Fleur,” Valeria said feeling her chest tighten at the realization of being permanently scarred on the most visible part of her body. Without her wand, she had no way to test if the cosmetic spells she knew would be enough to conceal the cut. She ate alone in the little room and only left the rest of the night to use the restroom.

Valeria spent the next few days wandless and trying to avoid contact with everyone, which in the cramped cottage was awkward at best. She took her meals alone, having to remember to eat as she hardly ever felt hungry anymore. Primarily, she did it out of politeness for Fleur’s hospitality, the manners she had been trained with not escaping her, even now. She got out of the house whenever possible, spending the majority of her days outside. By night, she fell into uneasy sleep and Draco would haunt her dreams only for her to wake up and not find him sleeping at her side, breaking her heart over and over.

Neither Harry nor his friends explained their panic at what she knew, and Valeria chose not to pry, caring passing little for their plans and figured, at this point, that the less she knew the better. She was too preoccupied with herself and with Draco, who never escaped her thoughts. The longer they were apart, the greater her desire to find him became. As she was regaining her strength and sensibilities, she became less resigned to stay do nothing, even if that was what Draco would want. How she would accomplish getting back to him, while somehow keeping them both alive, was another matter entirely.

“Harry, are you sure?” Hermione whispered once again as they went up the stairs some days later.

Harry nodded. “She knows too much anyway.”

“She’s unpredictable,” Ron, who had been the most disagreeable, observed. “You heard Luna. She got Corner tortured, all the younger kids at Hogwarts were terrified of her. Who knows what she’ll do…”

“You’re forgetting that she doesn’t have many options either,” Hermione said.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Harry said, taking Valeria’s wand and ward from Hermione who had been storing them in her bag.

“Come in,” Valeria called, standing up, after she heard a knock on the door. Harry and his friends entered the room and Ron shut the door softly behind them. With an unsure expression, Harry handed Valeria her wand and the serpentine ward that Draco had given her.

“We need your help,” Harry said.

The Malfoys, meanwhile, had been placed on what amounted to house arrest. Thankfully, Draco was still permitted to go to school once the recess ended, which was by now only a few days away. He passed the time alone, primarily in the chambers he shared with Valeria and while it was painful to be surrounded by the memory of her, it was also painful to think of leaving. He hadn’t touched her things, keeping them just as she left them. His emotions shifted wildly, sometimes in the span of seconds, between regretting what he’d done and firmly believing he made the right choice. He avoided his father most, and his mother was quickly becoming fed up with playing the mediator, being the only person holding the Malfoys together. Bellatrix was beside herself in her confinement and she avoided Draco too, likely on Narcissa’s orders.

The night before Draco was set to depart Hogwarts, he went down to the small room repurposed as a small potions laboratory and raided it. He had hardly been sleeping and didn’t think anyone would notice if he took a couple vials of milder potions. The war effort had been turning far too chaotic for anyone to care for batches of potions anyway. He stopped at the cauldron and immediately recognized the potion within from his school lessons and remembered the batch of Veritaserum that Valeria had been charged to work on. There was enough to go unnoticed, and Draco found no weights to serve as a record. Carefully, he transferred a small amount into a spare vial. He did not know what he would use it for, but being alone now with little hope for a friend, he figured he could use any help he could get, should the situation arise.

He stood in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor with his mother, his father noticeably absent. Narcissa was nearly in tears when as she hugged her son goodbye, making him promise to keep himself safe. He felt terrible as he returned her embrace, though he tried to reassure her for her own sake. He was about to leave her, his whole family, wandless and defenseless as Narcissa insisted Draco take her wand to school. He looked up at the wall behind his mother as he hugged her, seeing the austere portrait of him and Valeria painted over Christmas. Their likenesses looked at him knowingly, neither saying a word. He lingered longest on Valeria’s image, for it had been her, the very portrait that sought him out in the parlor room the evening of the skirmish and said, from the confines of another painting, only the words: “ _The drawing room, Draco.”_ A warning, a call he thankfully heeded.

Draco noticed on Platform 9 ¾ that the student population had dwindled once again and he realized he did not need to arrive early in order to avoid a crowd. He stowed his luggage in an empty compartment, keeping his head down to avoid attention. He was not sure even then how far word had travelled about Valeria’s disappearance, but he knew that reports had run in the paper, and the rumors were probably swirling amongst the student body. He sat alone in the compartment and waited long before the train eventually moved. He was hoping to get some rest in, but the compartment door slid open and Blaise entered without invitation.

“Hey,” Blaise said.

“Hi,” Draco replied, looking up at his friend, who for once wore a sympathetic expression. Without a word, Blaise took a seat across from Draco and sighed, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“You alright?” Blaise asked. Blaise was no good at this sort of conversation and in all fairness, neither was Draco.

“I’m fine,” Draco said. Blaise knew that Draco was lying, but fortunately chose not to pry further.

“They’ll find her eventually. It’s only a matter of time, really,” Blaise said. The thought made Draco’s stomach turn. He would have given anything to see Valeria again, or just to have the peace of mind that she was alive and safe. But Blaise didn’t know the whole story and Draco could not reveal, even to his friends, the truth of the best of him. “Valeria’s smart. She’s tough. She’ll get out of this somehow. She always has.”

“Yeah, I know,” Draco said absentmindedly, staring out the window as the scenery blurred past them.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” Blaise asked uncomfortably.

“No,” Draco said simply.

“I get it,” Blaise said with a sigh. Draco caught on to Blaise’s mannerisms. For all his friend’s stoicism, Draco could see Blaise was worried too. Whether he was worried more for himself, the future, Valeria’s well-being or some mixture thereof, remained to be seen. “Greengrass is a wreck. She’s been writing me like three times a day.”

Draco had forgotten about Valeria’s friends and his heart dropped a little as he realized that they, especially Greengrass, would eventually seek answers from him. He half expected her to barge into the compartment any second to interrogate him. Draco turned his wedding ring around his finger unconsciously in an effort to distract himself. Nott came in before Draco could respond to Blaise’s remark, reporting that Crabbe and Goyle were patrolling up and down the train, looking for any wrongdoing they could possibly contrive. Draco too marked the absence of his once closest friends.

Crabbe and Goyle did come in eventually, looking for answers in their own stupid way. Crabbe made a big speech about violently murdering Valeria’s kidnappers while Goyle attempted to make a snide comment about how Draco had lost Valeria to a kidnapping plot, yet again. Nott promptly shut that down, to Draco’s relief, the latter’s fist clenched so tight as Goyle spoke that his knuckles were even whiter. Blaise and Nott flanked Draco as they made their way into Hogwarts, perhaps trying to be loyal friends in their own cold way. Draco had kept his head down to avoid catching sideways glances or noticing any whispering amongst his peers, but he looked up when Blaise stopped dead in his track.

“Shit. Malfoy, I’m—” Blaise said. Draco looked up at the banners of the so-called Fallen Heroes and noticed, swaying so slightly in the drafty hall, the new addition to which Blaise referred. Nestled between the banners of Hieronymus and Konstantin Winters was another large banner with a slowly moving picture of Valeria printed upon it, her name boldly displayed under her image. The picture was older, Draco knew, her image was too clear in his mind, it must have been from a year or more ago. This image of Valeria wore that sneaky little smirk which Draco knew to have long since faded.

“She’s not…She’s still alive, Malfoy, right?” Nott asked, puzzled by the banner above them.

“She’s not dead,” Draco said between his teeth. He stormed off, breaking away from the crowd of students neatly filing into the Great Hall. His friends tried to call after him, but Draco did not turn around, fuming and determined. He marched to the Headmaster’s Office and pounded his fist on the door after letting himself up the stairs via the password.

“Come in!” he heard Snape’s voice, already greatly aggravated sounding, but Snape’s annoyance could not match Draco’s ire. It was not surprising to find Snape locked away in his office as he hardly attended meals with the rest of the faculty and students between all his important duties. Draco swung the door open and slammed it behind him as he marched right up to his desk and slammed his hands on the desk. “Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy.”

“What the hell is that downstairs?” Draco demanded, gesturing behind him.

“Could you be more specific?” Snape asked.

“The banner!” Draco said. “That bloody banner of _her_ with the _dead_. She’s not dead!”

Snape leaned over onto the desk from his chair to look Draco in the eye. “Damage control,” Snape said darkly.

“Damage control?! Telling everyone she’s dead is _damage control_?!” Draco shouted.

“No one is saying she’s dead. In fact, I bet the Carrows are making a speech about the missing Hogwarts Head Girl now, which you are notably absent for,” Snape said. “She is simply being made a martyr for the cause until the time that she is found.”

“This is bullshit,” Draco mumbled.

“You should be grateful that that is the extent of it after what you did,” Snape said. Draco stopped still, his heart dropping and blood running cold.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco said quickly.

“Don’t lie,” Snape said low before sitting back in his chair. “You think I wouldn’t find out the truth of what happened that night? Your father and I still talk and searching his thoughts would be easy for me, given his current stresses.”

Draco tried to stifle his panicked breath as Snape stared back at him, cold and unfeeling. “Does _he_ know?”

“Do you think you would be standing here if he did? No, I’m keeping your secret, Draco and you would be wise to play along. Speaking of which,” Snape grabbed a letter off a stack of parchment near him. “This arrived from your father before you got here. Seems urgent.” Draco, subdued by fear, took it from Snape with little acknowledgement. “Best join your peers at dinner. You’re still Head Boy, remember?”

Draco obeyed, slamming the door as he departed once more. He caught the tail end of dinner before going ahead of his fellow Slytherins down to the dungeons. He went first to the dormitories to read his father’s urgent letter, resisting the urge to ignite it afire.

 _Draco,_

_It has been decided that we need to run a statement in the paper regarding Valeria’s disappearance, particularly given your return to school. Please write a public statement at your earliest convenience and send it back. This cannot wait._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco crumpled the letter in his hands and cursed under his breath. As if the attention of his peers, the banner and his anxieties weren’t enough, he had to doubly play the part of the desperate, grieving husband. Ironically, Draco believed that would have been more difficult than the role he was entrusted to play before. As the boys came in and settled into the dormitory, Draco realized he’d need privacy and silence to work. He brought his writing supplies and his father’s crumpled letter down to the common room and his younger peers quickly vacated his choice spot nearest to the fire as they saw him approach.

He stared at the empty parchment, lazily fiddling with the quill in his hand for a while, paying no mind to the others around him as they slowly caught up with each other and eventually shuffled off to bed. Even being utterly alone proved to be little help to him and he grew more anxious and frustrated as time wore on.

“Malfoy…”

Draco looked up, stirred from his pestering thoughts to see Daphne Greengrass approaching him from the girls’ dormitories. He dropped the quill and rubbed his hands down his face, already frustrated, but when he looked up again at her he was surprised to find no malice in her expression, only concern. She sat down near him.

“Greengrass, I’m really in no mood for a—” he started.

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay,” she said quietly, barely a register above a whisper. Draco turned to her, confused. He never disliked Daphne and always considered her amongst his comrades, though distant and sometimes strained when it came to Valeria. She was hard-headed, and never was partial to handling disputes tactfully, which Draco found tiresome at times over the years. Yet now all he saw was a scared young woman frightened for her friend and herself as she stared off into the fire with a glassy expression.

“I’m managing,” Draco lied softly. Greengrass didn’t buy it either, he guessed, but she nodded slowly.

“Do you think she’s alright?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly and careful not to say too much, though he vehemently hoped otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” Greengrass said after a brief silence. “About everything that happened to you.” Draco didn’t know how to respond, he merely nodded in acknowledgement. “I know it’s all so fucked, but if it had to happen…I guess I’m glad she had you.”

“Thanks…” Draco whispered, at a loss for words.

“I mean it, you know. As much as I hate what’s all happened to her, to all of us, well…even I have to admit that I don’t think anyone cares about her like you,” Greengrass said. Draco was more vulnerable now than he thought and he looked away from her to hide the tears welling up in his eyes, carefully to stay as strong and still as he could. “What are you working on?” she asked, nodding towards the quill and parchment on the table.

“They want a public statement about her disappearance for the paper and I have to write it. Trying to figure out what to say,” he told her, thankful she changed the subject to keep him from losing complete control of himself. Greengrass perked up.

“Is there any chance it’ll reach her?”

“No idea. I guess technically there’s a chance,” he said.

“Can I help?” she asked. “You’ll take all the credit, of course.” Draco thought on the offer and without little hope to come up with a better idea, and given no one would know, he nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this obnoxiously long chapter (and story too, oh my.) Less action this time, but there was a lot to tie up. Thanks too for all the lovely comments and support. They're all wonderful. Stay well, stay safe.


	31. Dispatch From the Other Side

_"You should have left when you had the chance," he said._

_"Not without you," she told him._

_*****_

It had been a hard road convincing Valeria to join Potter and his friends. In all honesty, they were not too thrilled at the prospect either. She knew too much to be left behind is what it came down to. She was a danger to their mission, which took a lot of explaining and suffering through Valeria’s diligent questioning, but they rather had kept her close and appeal to what good was left within her and maybe get a little extra help that they so desperately needed.

Valeria reluctantly agreed, though she was certain they were doomed to fail. However, when that failure eventually came, an opportunity to flee, to go find Draco and escape far away, might arise. Otherwise, she would be trapped under near constant supervision at the crowded cottage. Potter left her little choice, not willing to put his friends and Ron’s family at even further risk by allowing her to linger longer than needed. The path appeared to be clear, however the fine details of their absurd plan to break into the Lestrange vault in Gringotts was anything but.

She spent weeks with the three of them and the goblin, who she quickly grew to dislike, planning out the heist, offering what help and advice she could. They often listened to the pirate radio, _Potterwatch_ with its updates and intermittent broadcasts while they worked. Valeria hated it, she hated hearing the news of who was dead and who was missing, but she dared not raise a complaint. Her purpose was clear enough to keep her focus on. The one thing she knew better than the rest of them was high status pureblood families and their traditions. She knew well how carefully people like the Lestranges guarded their secrets, just as her own family had. There wasn’t enough time, however, to craft more Polyjuice Potion and such ingredients would be impossible for them to come by. There was only enough for two, and even that was debatable.

“Dividing it could make the time it lasts drop drastically,” Valeria warned.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Harry said, looking over diagrams and documents on the advice of Griphook. “There’s not enough room under the cloak. Two of us have to drink it, however long it lasts.”

“Alright, then who’s it going to be? Sometimes height and weight can impact the longevity of—” Valeria stopped and looked up at the trio, who were glancing around at each other suspiciously. The implication of their silence dawned on her and Valeria defiantly folded her arms. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, yes, you will,” Ron said in a scolding tone which made Valeria scowl at him.

“They’re all looking for you, probably. You need to be disguised more than anyone,” Potter said.

“They want _you_ more than me,” Valeria argued, but it did not sway them. “Do you even have someone else to use? Unless you managed to pluck a hair off Draco’s head when you fought with him, there’s no way—”

“We have this,” Hermione said. She summoned a small vial from her bag and handed it to Valeria containing one singular strand of long blonde hair. Valeria stared Hermione down.

“Please don’t tell me this is Lucius,” Valeria said with dread. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“No. Narcissa. I looked over the robes you came here with before Fleur cleaned them and found it,” Hermione explained. “At least, I think it’s hers. You’d be a better judge of that…” Valeria held the vial to the light. It was far too long to be Draco’s and she could now see it had a distinct golden tint, so it was not likely Lucius’s. Valeria thought on it, remembering how Narcissa had physically directed her to stand before Potter at Malfoy Manor, and she was the one who likely acquired all the new robes that had been neatly hung in Valeria’s wardrobe there.

“What’s with your face?” Ron asked.

“ _Ronald!_ ” Hermione scolded.

“No, I don’t mean…I don’t mean the scar, I mean the look on your face,” Ron explained. Valeria then noticed she had been grimacing as she examined the hair.

“She’s my mother-in-law. It feels unnatural,” Valeria said, creeped out by the thought of taking Narcissa’s form.

“Nothing about any of this is natural,” Harry said with a scoff.

“Can I just be Bellatrix? At least then I wouldn’t have the body of the woman that _gave birth_ to my own husband…” Valeria pleaded. Hermione shook her head.

“You’ve spent the most time with Mrs. Malfoy, so it should be you. You know how she acts,” Hermione said.

“Who better to be Mrs. Malfoy than another Mrs. Malfoy,” Ron said with a shrug, perhaps a half-hearted attempt at a joke and Valeria glared at him.

“And we want Hermione to take the lead since it’s Lestrange’s vault we want,” Harry said. Valeria relented with a frustrated sigh and handed the vial back to Hermione.

“Have it your way, then,” Valeria said.

“Though, if you wanted to give me a few tips on how to better act like Bellatrix, I could use the advice,” Hermione said. Valeria nodded, still unhappy.

“I’ll try,” Valeria said. There was hardly time for Hermione to practice, however. Harry had wanted to spend most of their time creating and going over the plan and relied heavily on Hermione’s advice for the crafting of the plot. They got a chance one evening outside and it was not going well.

“You need to relax,” Valeria said. Hermione was not in disguise now, to save their resources, but it would have to do. Hermione was all tense, puffing her chest out to try to be more intimidating.

“She’s not exactly a calm person,” Hermione half-heartedly argued.

“No, but she does have the confidence of her status and there’s an ease that comes with that. Work on that. Now let’s try your face,” Valeria said. Hermione frowned and furrowed her brow. Valeria almost snorted through a laugh, angering Hermione.

“I’m trying!”

“It looks like you’re trying to ward off a fart,” Valeria said.

“I’m nervous enough as it is. I don’t need you making it worse,” Hermione said looking away. Valeria collected herself.

“Right, sorry. Just try to be serious without scowling. That should do it,” Valeria said. Hermione tried again. “Better. Be a little meaner and that’ll probably work.

“I’m still worried about the body language portion…” Hermione said. Valeria approached and adjusted Hermione by touch.

“Shoulders down, think long neck. Everything in alignment; Think shoulders over hips, hips over knees, knees over ankles, like so,” Valeria said as she directed Hermione. “Just walk like me, or how I use to hold myself. It’s not a perfect match, but I doubt anyone would bat an eye. Give us a walk.” Hermione complied, walking across the grass with much more subtle, but no less fierce, confidence than before. Valeria nodded her head. “Do that a little meaner and that’ll probably be the best we can do.”

“You’re good at this,” Hermione observed, relaxing out of the posture.

Valeria smiled, though it was a sad nostalgic one. “My mother drilled it into me as early as I can remember. She once had me sit perfectly still for ten minutes straight in perfect posture. It became natural after a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said sadly, but Valeria didn’t quite understand.

“She had her reasons. It was normal for me,” Valeria shrugged.

“She, uh, make you wear those glamours too?” Hermione asked. Valeria nodded. Now that she had her wand, she got by on cosmetic spells and charms to maintain the appearance she was used to. The scar, however, was fading some as it healed, but no matter how many spells she tried, it always remained, unlike little blemishes and other imperfections. That was difficult to grow accustomed to.

“For as long as I can remember,” Valeria answered.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I just don’t know if that’s completely right,” Hermione said.

“I’m from a different world, Granger,” Valeria said.

“Malfoy too, I guess,” Hermione said. Valeria nodded again. “Maybe that’s why you see something in him the rest of us don’t.”

“Might be part of it. That and him being a royal prick to you all those years,” Valeria said, which made Hermione laugh a little. “If it means anything to you, he tried to tell me the same thing about my parents.”

“Is that so?”

“Since we were kids.”

“He didn’t seem to mind at the Yule Ball,” Hermione said. The comment stung, not due to Hermione’s intentions, but that was one of Valeria’s fondest memories and it panged her to remember how happy she had been that night. She powered through the feeling. “Maybe he was just showing off.”

“He was a nervous wreck that whole time, at least that's what he said years after the fact.”

“It didn’t show.”

“He'd be happy to know that. Surprised you even noticed, being so enamored with Viktor Krum.”

Hermione blushed a little. “I wasn’t enamored…”

“Could have fooled me and everyone else.”

“Whatever the case, you were the star of Malfoy’s show that night,” Hermione said awkwardly. Valeria laughed a little. A silence passed between them, on the verge of understanding one another, but not quite reaching it. “You really…care for each other, don’t you?”

“That such a shock?”

“No. I mean, maybe a little. Didn’t know someone like him had it in him.”

Valeria looked down, remembering the selfless, sacrificial act he committed by shoving her into Potter to save her life. “He surprises me too, sometimes.”

“Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

“Maybe someday.”

Valeria still took her meals alone to the best of her ability as the Gringotts plot was crafted over the passing weeks. She had repaired the mirror she’d broken and would experiment with spells, even combinations of spells, in a futile effort to cover her scar, but to no avail. She spent a great deal of time outside pacing, wondering when she would get her chance to flee and what she would do if she even managed it. She promised not to leave Draco, and though it had not been her choice to do so, she was determined to keep her word.

There was a great deal of ruckus downstairs the night Bill took Ollivander to another safehouse, another Weasley related home from what Valeria gathered. It worried her at first, but it sounded celebratory and so she chose not to crash the party, doubting she would be welcome even if she wanted to see what the fuss was about. She was content to stay with her thoughts, looking at the window at the night sky, undistracted.

Until, of course, Luna knocked on her door.

“It’s Remus Lupin, remember him? He wants to see you?” Lovegood said.

“About what?"

“I don’t know, but as soon as we told him you were here, he asked me to fetch you,” Lovegood said. Valeria, annoyed but curious, relented and followed Luna downstairs. All were assembled as best as they could in the tight quarters and the air was much warmer with everyone close together. Lupin made eye contact with Valeria and she diverted her gaze as his sympathetic eyes lingered on her face, ashamed at the state of it.

“You wear it better than I do,” he said with a sad smile, gesturing to his own face. Valeria forced a smile, not finding the comment particularly funny at the time.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked as he approached. He stood close, but politely distanced while the others continued to converse or politely diverted their attention from them.

“It’s just good to see that you’re alright. There’re missing posters all over from what I gather. And after everything you’ve been through…” He trailed off. “You _are_ alright, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“As long as you’re sure. I suppose in a way, we’re kin now,” Lupin said.

“How so?” Luna asked and Valeria suppressed the desire to shoot Luna a dirty look for her eavesdropping, though that was hard to avoid in such small quarters.

“Tonks is Draco’s first cousin, though I doubt they’ve ever met,” Valeria said to remind Luna. It was common knowledge, though seldom discussed.

“I’m sure your in-laws were right pleased when we got married,” Lupin said with a little laugh.

“I’m sure you can imagine,” Valeria responded, remembering several nasty comments from both Lucius and Narcissa over meals. Draco however, hardly cared as he never mentioned it.

“Now he has a second cousin, right?” Luna said.

“Yes. We’ve had a baby, Valeria. A little boy, Teddy,” Lupin said. Valeria doubted Draco would be thrilled by the new addition to the estranged family but kept that to herself, though she was sure Lupin already knew.

“Congratulations,” Valeria said half-heartedly. “Is that all, sir?”

“Right, sorry. It’s hard not to brag a little, you see,” Lupin said. He reached into the inside of his coat, a large pocket within and handed a wrinkled, folded newspaper to Valeria. “I’m glad I brought this with me, managed to snag a copy. As soon as they told me you were here…Well, you should see.”

Valeria went to the table and unfolded the paper to see her wedding picture nearly covering the entire front page of _The Daily Prophet_. She stopped still, this being the first time she’d seen Draco’s face outside her own thoughts in weeks. The headline covered the photograph, reading,

_A Grieving Husband’s Desperate Plea: Bring Valeria Malfoy Home!_

Valeria’s eyes darted down to the article.

 _Below is the official statement submitted to_ The Prophet _by Mr. Malfoy calling for the return of his wife (pictured above, right.)_

_During the third month of this year, for the third occurrence in her young life my wife, Valeria Malfoy, was abducted by rebel forces with the express aim of weakening our family and our cause. I write this message in hopes that it will reach her or her captors, to demand her immediate return and to notify the public of this trial my family has suffered. These people don’t respond to mercy or reason and so I shall not concede to them._

_Valeria is a gifted, beautiful young witch, currently Head Girl and a proud member of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who is dedicated to the cause of our Dark Lord. She is the last living child of the esteemed Hieronymus and Odessa of the renowned Winters bloodline. Valeria had come into my own life at an early age as our families have always enjoyed a close comradery. She has been my most steadfast through all my young years._

_I am grateful to have found no truer partner to fight for prosperity of the wizarding world alongside with. The day we married in accordance with the traditions of our culture was the proudest of both our lives. I look back fondly on the occasion, even more so now that I fear for her well-being._

_The hellish position I find myself in now has done nothing to diminish my determination in bringing my wife home and punishing those responsible to the fullest extent. These rebels seek to destroy our way of life and corrupt the purity of our bloodlines, which is both reprehensible and unforgivable. Knowing this, I find myself more dedicated than ever to championing our cause._

_If you or anyone you know has any information regarding my wife’s whereabouts or well-being, I call upon you to report to the Ministry of Magic immediately. Those who come forward have a chance of being shown mercy, though the sooner, the better the chances. With the love of my family and the fraternal support of my comrades, I have all the confidence in the world that I will see my wife safely returned to me once more._

_To Valeria, please know that I cherish you and will not relent until we meet again. I will deliver you your rightful vengeance against those that seek to tear us asunder. Know that you are at the forefront of my thoughts always and that I will maintain my vows in your honor for as long as I shall live. All this, I promise, by any means necessary._

_All glory to the Dark Lord._

_—Mr. Draco L. Malfoy_

Valeria had been so engrossed in reading, overwhelmed by her disbelief, that she hadn’t noticed the others, including Hermione and Luna, reading over her shoulder as the rest looked on in solemn silence, awaiting her reaction. As she finished the words, she was utterly overwhelmed, all her grief and pain surfacing. She could not keep from crying, hiding her face in her right hand. Hermione reached for the paper, while Luna put an awkwardly comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Valeria, I know that must be hard…” Lupin said.

“Do you think he really wrote all this?” Hermione asked.

“He probably wrote it, but I’m sure he was helped a great deal. A lot of that comes straight out of the propaganda campaigns that have been raging for months,” Lupin explained. It did little soothe Valeria, who wanted nothing more than to go to Draco.

“That first line is strange. ‘ _During the third month of this year, for the third occurrence…’_ Odd way to say the date. You’d think he’d want people to know the exact date she left,” Hermione observed. Hermione’s repetition of the first line roused Valeria from her emotions, awakening a memory from long ago.

“Give that here,” Valeria ordered, not waiting for Hermione to hand the paper back before taking it out of her hands. Valeria set it flat on the table and turned to Fleur and Bill. “A quill and ink please. Now.” Fleur went to fetch the materials while Bill raised an eyebrow. Valeria quickly set to work marking up the paper as soon as Fleur set the quill and ink on the table.

“Valeria, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked approaching Valeria’s side and looking over her shoulder.

“It’s a game. Daphne, Daphne Greengrass, and I we’d write each other letters with silly coded messages in them when we were kids. Here, look,” Valeria said, presenting the paper to Hermione. “The rules we made up said that you had to have two numbers in the first sentence; the first number tells you what sentence of each paragraph the word you want is in, the second number tells you its place in the sentence. Draco wrote ‘third month’ and ‘third occurrence;’ Third word of the third sentence in each paragraph.” Valeria frantically returned to her work deciphering what she believed to be there.

_These people **don’t** respond to mercy or reason and so I shall not concede to them._

_Valeria had **come** into my own life at an early age…_

_I look **back** fondly on the occasion…_

_Knowing this, **I** find myself more dedicated than ever…_

_With the **love** of my family and the fraternal support…_

_Know that **you** are at the forefront of my thoughts…_

Valeria stopped when she was finished, writing the code out in the margins of the paper. _Don’t come back. I love you._ She was taken aback by the message, unsure of how to process it. She didn’t even notice Hermione leaning over shoulder to read.

“Valeria, you’re right!” she exclaimed.

“What’s it say?” Ron asked expectantly.

“‘ _Don’t come back. I love you_ ,’” Valeria said softly. The others looked around at each other, while Valeria could not stop reading and rereading Draco’s words.

“Well. Wasn’t expecting that,” Ron mused aloud.

“He used the propaganda to send you a message. That’s pretty clever,” Lupin said.

“A bit brilliant of him, actually,” Harry said, surprised at his own words.

“I don’t think we ever told him about the game. It was supposed to be a secret. That means Daphne had to help him, which means he's at Hogwarts,” Valeria said.

“So, he’s safe, for now,” Luna said, trying to sound assuring.

“For now…” Valeria repeated, both relieved and upset by Draco’s message. The first half worried her, his warning not to return to him, considering her whole plan was to find a way to seek him out. She wracked her brain for what to do. She had to find a way to respond, if only to let him know she was still out there. Some way to send a message across a distance with as little risk to anyone as possible. “The radio,” she thought aloud.

“What?” Hermione asked. Valeria ignored her, turning to Bill and Lupin.

“Do either of you have a way to reach whoever runs Potterwatch?!” Valeria asked desperately. Bill’s face twisted in doubt as he thought.

“Maybe? It’s so hard to know…We might know someone who’d be able—” Bill said. Valeria didn’t let him finish before she ripped a page from the paper that had enough white space to write. She scribbled some notes down quickly whilst everyone else looked on, still in confusion. She slid the note across the table.

“When they’re done with the news, or whenever they have time, get them to play this song. It has to be that exact song and with that exact dedication. Verbatim. They need to play it over and over—” Valeria said frantically. Lupin touched her on the shoulder.

“You should sit down,” Lupin advised.

“No,” Valeria said.

“ _The Centaur’s Waltz, composed for Rothgale’s Enchanted Orchestra, 1755._ _For Unicorn Hawthorn from Songbird…_ ” Bill read, puzzled.

“What the hell does that mean?” Ron asked.

“Unicorn hair and hawthorn wood, that’s Malfoy’s wand,” Harry recalled from what Ollivander said.

“The song’s the one we danced to at our wedding,” Valeria said exacerbated. “He’ll know it if he heard it.”

“Songbird?” Hermione asked.

“An old nickname, Granger, long out of use. My parents called me that and he’s one of the only people alive that knows about it,” Valeria said, growing tired with having to explain everything.

“I don’t know. It’s a lot to ask, especially coming from you, no offense meant. That airtime is a precious resource. They change locations constantly and—” Bill said, but Valeria once again tearing paper and writing before he could finish. She slid another slip of paper into his hand.

Bill sighed as he read. “ _The person or persons broadcasting Potterwatch are hereby formally invited to the Winters Estate in Snowdonia, Wales. This invitation shall stand in perpetuity until such time as it is formally revoked and may be used at the discretion and convenience of the invitees. Signed, Valeria Malfoy.”_

“They can go there any time they want. It’s one of the most secure locations in Britain,” Valeria said. “So long as they play that damn song.”

“Is that wise? How long has it been since you’ve been there? Who knows what the Death Eaters have done to it,” Lupin said.

“It’s vacant except for the house-elf. Hermione and I were there over Christmas. It’s a damn fortress,” Harry said. Valeria turned sharply to face him.

“You went?” she asked.

“I’m sorry we didn’t mention it, but it wasn’t urgent,” Hermione explained. “We just needed a place to rest and took a look around.”

“Did you find anything?” Valeria asked frantically.

“Just some old books, I’ll return them to you, I promise. We talked with the house-elf. He was kind,” Hermione said. Valeria would have asked more questions, but her heart was on fire with a desperate sort of flame with only one goal to send a message to Draco.

“But doesn’t Malfoy own it to? Can’t he revoke the invitation if he finds out?” Ron asked.

“And how would he do that?” Valeria asked. “We both own it, but he promised me that my estate was mine alone to him. He doesn’t give a shit about my property; I can assure you. Even if they somehow transferred it to him while I’m gone, the security enchantments were made before the Ministry existed. They only respond to marriages and children, not simply legal documents. As long as I’m still alive, it’s secure.”

“It’s hard to find. Might take a few tries or better yet, flying over on a broom, but it’s possible,” Harry said.

“Valeria,” Luna began nervously. “How would Malfoy even hear it? He probably doesn’t even know about the station, let alone listen to it.”

That was a hitch, but Valeria was so emboldened, sure her plan would find a way to work somehow, that she resolved to follow her impulse, despite Luna’s point. “He sent this, not knowing where I was or if it’d ever reach me. Maybe this will find him too.”

“Should Malfoy even know about it? He’s a bloody Death Eater!” Ron said. Valeria slammed her hand on the table.

“He’s not going to care about your rumors and missing persons lists! I know him. The only thing he wants is to survive. He had no choice but to take the Dark Mark, even if he wanted one. You all, you haven’t seen him like I have, what he’s gone through in all of this…” she trailed off, her eyes filling with tears. “He’s just like me.” She turned to Potter, knowing that if they were to trust anyone, it’d be him. “Potter, please. You _know_. You’ve seen it. I won’t ask anything of you ever again.”

Valeria realized as she waited for Potter’s decision, just how much her emotions had been reeling over the weeks and how desperately lost she felt without Draco. If she had not been so determined now, it would have worried her for she had, in her younger years, considered herself independent. _“A Winters does not ask, we act,”_ her father would often advise. A Winters was not supposed to beg for anything, and yet she knew that this was the only way to try to reach Draco and even to possibly gain their trust enough in order for her to conceive a way to get back to him.

“Using her home to broadcast is a good idea,” Harry said. “I don’t see the harm in it.” Bill Weasley still looked unsure but nodded reluctantly.

“I can’t make any promises, Winters, but I’ll see what I can do,” Bill said.

“That’s all I ask,” Valeria said. For once, when all was said and done, Valeria lingered downstairs with the rest of the group, but she stayed off to the side, reading Lupin’s copy of the paper cover to cover, particularly Draco’s statement which she read over and over. Lupin eventually decided to depart and said his farewells, coaxing Valeria out of the narrow-minded trance she found herself in with the paper.

“You can hang onto that, if you like,” Lupin said sympathetically.

“Thanks,” Valeria said.

Lupin shifted on his feet. “I hope it all works out for you. I know it must be hard, being an outsider here, but Dora’s always liked you and has faith in you. You didn’t deserve any of what you’ve been through.” Valeria looked down, feeling the tinge of guilt followed by sickness in her gut remembering her conversations with Tonks, particularly about Konstantin and Jane. 

“There’s something you should know, that Tonks should know,” Valeria said softly before looking Lupin in the eye. “Her friend, Jane Masters, she’s dead. I’m sorry.”

Lupin looked down, mournful but unsurprised. “I feared for that. Dora was hopeful though; she’ll be beside herself to hear it. Can I ask, how? Maybe it’ll give her some closure.”

Valeria shook her head, trying not to tear up again, remembering Jane’s horrific slaughter. “I don’t think you want to know.”

“I understand,” Lupin said, appearing even sadder.

“Maybe some other time,” Valeria said, trying to be reassuring.

“I’ll tell Dora. Thank you and farewell,” Lupin said. They shared one more sympathetic look together before Lupin departed and Valeria could not parse what she felt. Without Draco as a constant in her life, she felt as though she were falling forever with no landing in sight.

Unbeknownst to her, Draco felt the same way.

He tossed the paper back on the table in the Slytherin common room after dinner the evening after it had been. He was joined, for now, only by Daphne nearby. He leaned back on the sofa as though he were trying to melt into it, attempting and failing to relax as he lazily stretched out his legs. He let out a heavy sigh as he rested his head against the back of the sofa.

“Are you sure that’s the message you wanted to get out? Why wouldn’t we want her to come back?” Daphne asked. Draco had stifled the question when Daphne helped him with the cryptic message before, but he should have known that Daphne was not the type to let things go easily.

“We’ve been over this, Greengrass,” Draco said with a drawl. He had been grateful for her help, impressed even with her idea, but now he was becoming aggravated. He could tell no one what happened that night Manor and his patience for interrogation was thin.

“She’s my friend too, Malfoy. I deserve to know why,” Daphne insisted as she picked up the paper herself.

“It’s just…it’s just dangerous. That’s all I can tell you,” Draco said.

“Malfoy,” Daphne said, prompting Draco to lift his head and look at her, surprised to find her worried instead of angry. “Just how bad is this?”

“Bad,” Draco said quietly.

“And the rest of us? What do we do now?”

“Wait,” Draco answered simply.

“Wait for what?”

“I don’t know.”

Daphne returned to the paper when other students began to file in after dinner, either heading to their dormitories or taking spots in the common room to have hushed conversations. Daphne and Draco were joined by the other seventh-year Slytherins, sans Crabbe and Goyle, who were likely looking for post-dinner stragglers to punish. That was only a guess on Draco’s part, he had long since lost the energy to keep track of them. The group shared updates and rumors they had each individually gathered; More students were oddly absent or missing. The Carrows were getting bolder, inflicting harsher punishments that made Draco cringe. It was hard not to notice more students chained up in the Great Hall. Despite the rebellious students of before appearing to lie low, it seemed too little too late to tame the Carrows’ inclination for suffering.

“We just have to keep our heads down until the end of the year,” Nott said.

“Won’t be that hard to do, considering we can do no wrong in the Carrows’ eyes. Honestly, we should be happier about Slytherin finally being the favored house again,” Blaise said nonchalantly.

“And then what? You think we’ll just be free and in the clear once we leave Hogwarts?” Pansy asked.

“No, but at least we won’t be here,” Nott argued.

“And how long before they come for us?” Pansy asked again, frantically.

“Did you not hear what Nott said? Just keep your head down and we’ll be fine, Pansy,” Tracey said.

“You think so?” Pansy got up and snatched the paper out of Daphne’s hands and displayed the front page with Draco’s wedding photograph and statement for all the group to see. “Valeria kept her head down. Valeria did everything right and look what happened to her!”

“Parkinson!” Nott said, raising his voice, which Draco never recalled ever hearing him do. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, averting his eyes from the dead stares of his and Valeria’s likenesses in the picture. “Not in front of Malf—”

“Why not? You don’t think he knows it too?” Pansy said.

“Stop talking about me as I’m not right bloody here!” Draco said.

“Then speak up, Draco! You’ve been awfully quiet about your _wife_ being gone!” Pansy said.

“My statement is right there,” Draco argued, gesturing to the paper.

“You know what I mean!”

“And what would you have me say?”

“Something! Anything! Just something we can work with so we aren’t flying blind every day, scared of everything we do or say! You’re the closest of any of us to the Dark Lord and you’ll give us nothing. You won’t even talk about _her_ —”

“Pansy!” Daphne protested. “Keep your bloody voice down!”

Pansy looked at Daphne. “We talk about it every night in the dormitory, don’t we, Daphne?!” Pansy turned once more on Draco. “All we do is worry and guess where she is and what will _really_ happen to her if she’s found again. All we do is try to get through the day without being chained up in the Great Hall or worse and try to figure out what the hell we’re going to do when we get out of here to save ourselves! I’m tired of not knowing. I want some goddamn answers! And all you do, Draco, is sit there looking at the floor not telling us anything! If we were ever your friends, if you ever cared about Valeria as more than a bloody prize you get to fu—!”

That was the final straw for Draco.

He shot up out of his seat and kicked over the small table between the armchairs and with enough force to tip it over, sending the items on the surface spilling to the floor with thuds and clatters. Pansy took two steps back in fear, dropping the paper, and the others too instinctively moved a little out of the way, looking up at Draco and awaiting his next move. Draco breathed heavily through his rage, his hair falling a bit out of place.

“If you think that I’m not thinking about her every second, you can go _fuck yourself_ , Parkinson!” Draco shouted. “And if you don’t keep her name out of your fat, obnoxious mouth, I’ll—” He stopped himself, overwhelmed by rage colliding with grief, afraid of what he’d say next. He took a step back to try to collect himself. “I need to patrol,” he said. It was true, it was his turn tonight, but he was more concerned about having an excuse to leave the common room.

“Malfoy, I can do it tonight if—” Blaise said, rising.

“No. I’m taking a walk,” Draco insisted before turning his back on his friends and leaving the common room. He made his way out of the dungeons into the castle, sure that his badge was displayed prominently on his robes. Other Death Eaters, his comrades, had taken to guarding certain parts of the castle in order to bar any escape or entry. He saw a couple of them as he walked, giving them an acknowledging nod as he passed. He passed under the banners of Fallen Heroes and looked up to see Valeria’s face, smiling softly. He knew she’d disapprove of how he treated Pansy, at least a part of her would have, he guessed, but there was no sorer subject for him than the one Pansy had raised. Pansy was just scared, he knew that, he was just as fearful, if not more so, than she was. But she should have known better. The best way for Pansy to keep herself safe was to keep her mouth shut.

If Valeria had been at Hogwarts, he would have sought her out, brought her to that abandoned classroom that sometimes felt more like home than home ever felt. He could hold her, warm and alive, feeling right in his own skin for once. He craved those times, against his better judgement, then and now. He didn’t know if it was right, or healthy, but he hardly cared. He could not help but fall into her every time, even when she wasn’t there.

He lingered a while atop the unguarded Astronomy Tower. He could see the Black Lake below and in the darkness the moonlight glistened against its waters. He could see the spot, that sacred little place where he and Valeria would laugh and simply _be_ on the lake’s shore. That was a long time ago. That was the last time he had felt truly well and happy, if only he had known it then, he would have done more to savor it while he could. He knew they’d never go back there, time or place.

Looking at the bannister that lined the edge of the tower he wondered if this was where it all went wrong. He mused, futilely, about where he and Valeria would be now if his comrades had not interrupted him lowering his wand at Dumbledore. His father would not have forgiven him, but he doubted his mother would have cared so long as Dumbledore’s promise of safety was delivered on. Draco wouldn’t have had to fight. Valeria would still be a Winters and they would have still had each other.

Draco didn’t like to think about how things could have been different, that sort of what-if question was usually far too painful for him to not dissolve into swirling bitterness. But now that he was alone, once again, indefinitely and in every sense of the word, his mind wandered to the darkest of reaches. He wanted Valeria back, to stand there with him and distract him from his thoughts by just her presence. He wanted it so much that he felt his beating heart ache to think on it, but the only thing he wanted more was to have her alive, preferably safe. As much as it killed a part of him to code his warning of _Don’t come back_ in his public statement, he knew it had to be done.

He did not muse long on the possibility of never seeing her again. That was a future he could not bear to imagine.

The night wore on, he needed to finish up and head back. Even as Head Boy, there were some boundaries he couldn’t push without risking too much. He made his way down the seventh-floor corridor, no less preoccupied when he saw in the dim light a figure coming out of a door in the wall which had only just then appeared.

“Hey!” Draco shouted, picking up his pace as he walked forward, and the door dissolved back into stone. The figure turned and Longbottom, for all his defiance, for a moment turned white seeing Draco approach.

“Room of Requirement, that’s where you’ve all been hiding, then? Should have known,” Draco said. Longbottom looked at Draco with malice, trying to find a response.

“What’re you going to do about it then?” Longbottom asked, trying to act tough. The question gave Draco pause for once. He wanted to land Longbottom in trouble, remembering their altercation at Platform 9 ¾.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Draco said with a sneer.

“You don’t have any proof of anything,” Longbottom said darkly.

“Do you think anyone would care, Longbottom?” Draco asked. Longbottom looked fearful, not of Draco, but of his implication, as much as he tried to hide it. Draco thought for a moment, his mind racing with what to do with the knowledge he had now gained. He guessed that he was the only other person, aside from Longbottom’s friends, who knew their secret. He’d have to use it wisely. “How’ve you been getting food?” Draco asked knowing the room did not provide sustenance and noticing the rebellious students’ absence at mealtimes.

“There are ways,” Longbottom said carefully, but spitefully. Draco surmised, and it was in truth only a guess, that they were getting food from somewhere outside the castle given how carefully Hogwarts’s own kitchens were guarded. That gave Draco a spark of an idea, a brazen and stupid one, but something resembling a hope lit up his spirit. He was careful not to reveal this to Longbottom in expression, maintaining the power balance in his own favor. Unfortunately, Longbottom opened his mouth again. “Just turn me in and get it over with. I’m sure your itching to take out your pathetic misery out on someone.”

“I’m not the one who should be worried about pathetic misery, Longbottom,” Draco spat.

“Is that what you told Winters too when you married her?” Longbottom asked, knowing exactly which of Draco’s buttons to push.

“I’ve already warned you once,” Draco threatened, approaching Longbottom and the latter moved back, further from the Room of Requirement’s currently invisible entrance.

“Did she really go missing, Malfoy? Was she actually abducted, or did she finally get sick enough of you? I wouldn’t put it past you if you were covering up something you did to—”

“Shut up!” Draco’s voice boomed and echoed throughout the corridor and he drew his wand, Longbottom responding in kind. Draco’s rage returned, frustrated that he could not reveal the one thing he did that might have actually improved Longbottom’s opinion of him. The fearful question he asked Valeria the first night of the Easter recess had not been unfounded; He would always be the bad guy, even when he did the right thing. Draco was readying to fling curses at Longbottom when both boys stopped dead at a distant sound.

“Up here, quick!”

“They’re going to be in real deep shit if someone’s out so late!”

Draco’s heart dropped, he knew those to be the gleeful voice of Crabbe and Goyle. He rushed to Longbottom and grabbed him by the back of the robes, pulling him back down the corridor. He stopped and flung open the door to an old cupboard that likely had not been used in decades, if the dusty smell was anything to go by.

“What’re you—?” Longbottom began, taken by surprise and unable to get his footing.

“Shut the fuck up!” Draco said harshly through clenched teeth before shoving Longbottom into the cupboard and shutting the door behind them. Draco magically locked the door and cast a silencing charm over the entrance as Longbottom was already stifling coughs from the dust floating around. The two waited, trying to avoid touching each other, in darkness and silence. Draco kept his wand at the ready as he heard Crabbe and Goyle’s footsteps and obnoxiously loud voices come ever closer. They would absolutely try to open the door, even Crabbe and Goyle weren’t stupid enough to not consider it.

“You heard it too, right?” Goyle asked.

“They would have been right here…” Crabbe said.

“They must have run. C’mon. They couldn’t have gotten far,” Goyle said. Their footsteps picked up as they ran down the opposite end of the corridor. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Fucking morons…” he muttered under his breath. He took a small moment to wonder how he ever got any of them to accomplish anything under his command. When there was silence for long enough, Draco slowly opened the door and peaked out to see that the coast was clear. He stepped aside to let Longbottom through, the former cringing in disgust as he patted off the dust that had settled on his robes.

“What was that for?” Longbottom asked, rightfully confused by Draco’s action.

“You should be thanking me. If you’d been caught by them, even I couldn’t help you,” Draco said spitefully, knowing full well that his Slytherin peers were the Carrows’ favorite students. Draco couldn’t exactly explain the impulse to help Longbottom, but he knew that the suffering he saw all around him at Hogwarts made him ill. He had no interest in it, especially if Longbottom could be useful to him. “Looks like you owe me, Longbottom.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” Longbottom said through his teeth.

“You might think so, but it doesn’t look like you have much of a choice, knowing what I know,” Draco said, gesturing to the entrance of the Room of Requirement. Longbottom raised his wand. “You really think that’ll help? It’s only a matter of time.”

“I already told you that you can’t prove anything anyway,” Longbottom said. Draco lifted up the sleeve on his left arm, showing Neville the Dark Mark coiled in ink on his skin. Longbottom scowled in disgust at the sight.

“Who’re they going to believe? If I so much as planted a seed of suspicion about your whereabouts all this time, do you really think that you could get away with it? I don’t even have to bring up your name, maybe I’ll bring up Abbott,” Draco was doing everything he could to put fear in Neville’s heart, and it appeared that it was starting to work.

“None of us will reveal anything,” Longbottom said. Draco reached into the pocket of his robes and removed the little vial of Veritaserum he had religiously been keeping on his person, primarily to prevent Crabbe or Goyle from getting a hold of it in their shared dormitory.

“I remember how shit you are at potions, so I’ll remind you. I happen to have recently acquired this Veritaserum. Getting the truth from any of you lot will be the easiest thing I’ve done all year,” Draco said before stashing away the vial. Longbottom’s eyes widened and then he looked away in defeat. Draco smirked a little, feeling a little bit proud of himself.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Neville said. Draco shrugged.

“That makes no difference to me,” Draco said.

“Out with it then. What do you want?” Longbottom asked.

“Information,” Draco said. Longbottom was taken aback.

“We don’t know anything about the Order—” he said defensively. Draco rolled his eyes.

“The Order is gone, Longbottom. Even if it wasn’t, I don’t care,” Draco said. He walked up to Longbottom to speak more quietly. “I don’t know how, but you’ve got contact outside of this place. There’s no other way you’re getting food. I don’t care about what you know or don’t know about the war. I want information about Valeria.”

Longbottom looked at Draco as though the latter had gone insane. “How do you expect me to get that—”

“I don’t. I have reason to believe she might try to contact me somehow and I want you to tell me if that happens,” Draco said. Longbottom had many more questions, that was clear enough in his expression alone, but he shoved them away to eye Draco with suspicious curiosity.

“You really don’t know where she is, do you?” he asked. Draco looked away frowning.

“No.”

“Do you know if she’s okay?”

“No.”

“What the hell happened with you two?”

“You don’t get to ask questions, Longbottom!” Draco spat before composing himself. “I will be here, every other night, just stick your head out and tell me what you know. We’re done here.”

“Malfoy, this is bloody mad!” Longbottom called as Draco marched off towards the staircase, leaving a still flabbergasted Neville behind.

“Take my advice, do what I say and keep your friends safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one, sorry, but with two perspectives and a lot to get through, it's unavoidable. Thank you for all your comments/kudos. You're all so wonderful. Stay well, stay safe.


	32. The Centaur's Waltz

_"You think we were better off alone?" she asked._

_"I was always going to be there, even when I wasn't," he insisted casually._

_*****_

Draco had been diligent in his word. Every other evening, he’d wait at the appointed time outside the Room of Requirement and Longbottom would briefly leave the room to give him an update. So far, all he did was step out, shake his head in the negative and go back in. Blaise, and Draco’s other peers, who had taken up the roles of unofficial prefects in order to appease the Carrows and keep any potential heat off Slytherin house, had noticed Draco taking on more patrols. Draco told them that he liked the time alone to take a walk and the questioning stopped there.

The weeks dragged on and Neville had no news for Draco, which irked the latter. Draco was growing impatient, though he hardly had a right to. He had no way to know if Valeria would even receive his message in _The Prophet_ , let alone if she would figure out the message. Daphne had warned him of that too, saying the two friends hadn’t written coded letters to each other since they were children.

Narcissa wrote to him almost non-stop from her confinement in Malfoy Manor, with carefully worded warnings about how she was unsure if she had quelled Bellatrix’s rage at Valeria. The relationship between the sisters had become tense, to say the least. His mother vaguely expressed how difficult Lucius had become too. Draco hated the thought of leaving his mother alone, defenseless without her wand, but the weight of the world was beginning to crush him again. He tried to write her back reassuringly, but could hardly manage it, emotionally crippled by his own loneliness.

Terry Boot had gotten himself chained up in the Great Hall for some infraction Draco never cared to learn the details of. Though he had been quite used to the nasty stares from students in other houses, he was especially uncomfortable with Boot’s punishment being carried out near the Slytherin table. He could feel Boot’s glares through the back of his head and could have sworn he heard muttered insults behind his back as he picked at his food. There was a time when Draco would have retaliated and taken great pleasure in it, even now he likely would have been rewarded with praise for doing so, but he had no urge to now.

Draco learned throughout the last two years that fighting loneliness did little good and he had learned to somewhat embrace it, the best he could. The long nights in his Hogwarts bed, tossing and turning, wide awake he succumbed to his mind’s desire and lingered well on time he spent with Valeria. Sleeping separately at Hogwarts had made the bed cold already, but now that she was truly gone, it was like trying to sleep on ice. Even at home, locked up in the sanctuary of their chamber, at least the bed was always warm. He would often find himself half-asleep, half-dreaming, imagining her there now as they once were. Long, lazy nights giving way to silent, dreary mornings where they’d lay entangled and skin-to-skin. He had never seen her so sweetly disheveled, hair out of place, glamours worn off. She was glorious. So was he. Those nights lasted eternities, yet never long enough.

Draco never felt as though he belonged much of anywhere, fearing submission to being known, even if he didn't realize it. Belonging was not a place, but a feeling and it was with her that he felt it, became addicted to an emotion he did not quite yet understand. These nights now grew longer, painfully so, and he’d constantly await a dawn that never seemed to rise; it hadn’t in years, but holding Valeria close as he once did, he caught fleeting glimmers of a future sunrise on a figurative horizon.

And it was for that reason, against all probability of hope, that she’d find some way to reach him, against all good wisdom. He had told her the truth the horrific night he discovered her secret of self-destruction; The future he imagined without her was not so much darkness as it was nothing. Come hell, come salvation, come death she was there, but without her there was only a void. The only path he could tread was the one with her in it. He knew it was selfish, he knew he was inherently selfish and always had been, but he was possessed with single-minded determination fueled by the ache in his spirits.

And so when Neville once more shook his head outside the Room of Requirement after weeks of the same, Draco succumbed to impulse and grabbed him by the collar before he could duck back in and yanked him out, the entrance sealing off behind him.

“What the hell?” Longbottom said as he got his footing back.

“Are you even trying?!” Draco said in a childish frustration. Longbottom rolled his eyes.

“All I can do is wait. I’m not keeping anything from you,” he said. He sighed out of frustration. “I told you it was a mad idea, Malfoy.”

“That’s not good enough,” Draco spat.

“And what would you have me do? I can’t exactly go running around searching for her, can I? Not that I even would. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than this!” Neville argued.

“How are you getting your information?” Draco demanded. Longbottom averted his gaze, not wanting to divulge anything.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Longbottom said.

“I don’t give a damn about Potter or your blood traitor friends. I don’t care what else you know, just how you know it, you moron!” Draco said.

“Insults won’t help you when I’m risking my neck doing you a bloody favor,” Neville said.

“Oh, yeah?” Draco scoffed. “Remember that I’m the one doing you a favor by keeping your little secret, Longbottom. And don’t you dare lecture me about risking your neck when it’ll be _my_ head if anyone discovers I kept it from them.”

Longbottom took a long pause. “You’re risking all that just on the very slim chance she finds a way to send a message. Why?”

Draco was about to spout off about how Longbottom was being difficult in evading his questioning, but instead shifted his weight and lazily showed Neville the back of his left hand, wedding ring prominently displayed. “I said a vow, Longbottom. I don’t expect a blood traitor to understand.”

Longbottom scowled at Draco’s unnecessary snide remark, but his face soon softened to simple sternness. “You really take that seriously? Even if it was forced on you?”

Draco searched his mind for a response but opted for the simplest option. “Yes.”

Longbottom ran his hand through his hair and let out a frustrated, defeated breath. He took a moment to think, before looking over at Draco again. “There’s someone outside who’s been giving us food, but they know nothing. I asked. There’s also…there’s also a broadcast, radio, but they only talk about news and rumors. Deaths and missing people, stuff like that. That’s all I got, and I’ve heard nothing.”

Draco perked up at the news of the broadcast. “What? Like news radio?”

“Sort of,” Neville reluctantly tried to explain. “It’s not all the time, we don’t really know when the next one is gonna be and there’s a password that changes all the time to listen to it. It’s been a bit more consistent lately, seems they found a safer spot to broadcast from since they have to hop around so much. But, like I said, except for that bloody song, they just talk about rumors and Valeria’s never been mentioned except for when she disappeared again.”

Draco approached Neville. “Song?”

Longbottom rolled his eyes. “I usually turn it off when it starts. Lately, every time they wrap up the news they just play this song—”

“What song!?” Draco demanded.

“I don’t know the name, some classical bit. It’s got this real cryptic dedication they read out so I can’t tell you what it is—”

Draco was nearly in Longbottom’s face, looming over him being a few inches taller, eyes wild. “What’s the dedication?!”

“Something about it being for a ‘Unicorn Hawthorn’ from a ‘Songbird,’ I think. Like I said, I usually turn it off and—”

Draco took a step back and could not help but let out an exacerbated, defeated laugh as he rolled his eyes. He put his palm to his face. “Longbottom, you absolute fucking idiot…”

“Excuse me?” Longbottom said defensively, quickly growing anxious being out in the open and his limited patience with Draco fading fast.

“That’s for _me_!” Draco said, nearly shouting.

“You’re Unicorn Hawthorn?” Longbottom asked, raising a brow.

“That’s my wand’s core, unicorn hair, and the wood,” Draco revealed. Longbottom was curious, but still puzzled.

“And she’s this Songbird person?” Neville asked. “How do you know?”

“It’s an old nickname. Her parents called her that a long time ago and I used to tease her with it. I’m probably the only one who still remembers that,” Draco explained impatiently. “It’s her.”

Proved wrong, Longbottom looked a bit impressed, but otherwise didn’t know how to react at Draco’s newfound energy. “Well, shit.”

“You don’t remember the name of the song?” Draco asked.

“I told you, I usually turn it off. I wasn’t paying attention—” Neville said.

“That was your goddamn job!” Draco said.

“And, once more, I told you I had bigger things to worry about. How the hell was I supposed to know—”

“You need to show me,” Draco said quickly.

“Are you as thick as you look? I don’t even know when the broadcasts are going to be!” Neville said. 

“I need to hear it,” Draco said, for once ignoring Longbottom’s insult.

“Well, tough shit. I’m not going to let you into the Room of Requirement and unless you can find a way to smuggle a radio somewhere where we won’t get caught—” Neville stopped himself, seeing the flicker of an idea flash across Draco’s eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Malfoy.”

“Meet me in girl’s bathroom on the third-floor tomorrow night, same time as usual. Bring the radio,” Draco said before turning away.

“Hold on!” Longbottom demanded. “I don’t even know if there’ll be a broadcast tomorrow night.”

Draco spun on his heel and spoke through his teeth. “Then we’ll meet there every night until there is one.”

“And how do you expect the others not to notice me gone? What if I get caught?”

“That’s not _my_ problem, Longbottom,” Draco said, before strutting off towards the staircase, leaving Longbottom frustrated, puzzled and alone. Draco could hardly sleep, consumed by anxious anticipation coupled with bittersweet relief. She had received his message, meaning she was somewhere she could access the paper, at least he had to believe that was true. If she could get a message on the dissident pirate radio, she was with the rebels in all likelihood. That made Draco nervous, but it helped to know that she had not been completely abandoned to her own devices. Every possibility gave cause for fear, but he was too distracted by the confirmation that she was alive and safe enough to send a dispatch.

Draco was anxious for the day to pass and die into night. He took a seat by Daphne in Transfiguration, displacing Tracey to the latter’s annoyance. Daphne raised an eyebrow at Draco’s sudden eagerness to be near her.

“You alright?” she asked, knowing it was a bit of a futile question to ask. Draco leaned into whisper to her.

“I think she got our message,” he said. Interest sparked, Daphne leaned closer to him to further the hushed conversation.

“How do know?”

“I can’t explain it, not really, it’s too dangerous, but I know she found a way to send something out to me,” Draco said carefully.

“Where is it?”

“I haven’t heard it yet. I’ll know tonight hopefully,” he said.

“ _Hear_?” Daphne asked. “What does that mean?”

“I told you, I can’t explain,” Draco said. “I’ll tell you more when it’s safe, but you have to trust me.”

“Malfoy, are you sure you shouldn’t talk to Pomfrey? You’ve acting…odder than usual,” Daphne said, looking confused and concerned. Draco rolled his eyes.

“It’s _true_ Greengrass. Valeria found a way—”

“I’m sorry, Malfoy, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

McGonagall cleared her throat roused the two from their whispers. Draco sat back in his chair, frustrated that his disclosure, an effort to soothe Daphne’s own worries for her friend, had backfired. He supposed he should have suspected that she wouldn’t believe him, or at least not accept his word as gospel, but he also knew that he couldn’t tell her about his uncomfortable alliance with Longbottom.

After class, the final one of the day to Draco’s relief, he was called to stay behind by Professor McGonagall, surprising him. If she were to admonish him for whispering to Daphne, then she would have a tough time enforcing any discipline, seeing how he was still favored by the Carrows, despite everything. It was bold of her to even attempt it by asking to him to linger for a few minutes and he had been so antsy within that he could not help but scowl in annoyance.

“What?” he asked boldly as he approached her desk. He had gotten used to seeing McGonagall nervous as she had been tense all year for obvious reasons, but it struck him a little to see it up close as she approached him, wringing her hands.

“I wanted to ask…have you heard anything about Miss Win—I mean—your wife?” she said with great hesitation. Draco’s jaw clenched.

“No.”

McGonagall curled her lip inward. “Can I ask if you know anything…about what happened to her?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco said sternly, his own nerves rattled. “Why do you care? You don’t even _like_ us!”

McGonagall’s expression returned to her familiar strict stoicism. “That is uncalled for, Mr. Malfoy. I care for the well-being of every student—”

Draco laughed. He was at his limit. “You expect me to believe that? If you cared so goddamn much, why didn’t any of you do anything for any of us?!”

“There’s no need to use language at me—” she ordered. Draco slung his bag over his other arm and quickly yanked the sleeve up on his left arm.

“This tells me I can use whatever language I like,” he spat. McGonagall looked horrified at the Dark Mark and at Draco, but there was a hint of guilty sadness in her countenance that Draco ignored as he shoved his sleeve back down.

“I did try to help her, but it was your… _organization_ that interfered,” McGonagall said, trying to stay as calm as she could. Draco felt his own heart was on the verge of explosion at her implication.

“I’ve done more to help her, save both of us, than any of you have in your entire lives, and I’d do it all again,” he said darkly, not knowing how much he believed his own words.

McGonagall took a long breath. “I can tell you, truly, that none of us wanted this to happen to you. Any of it.” Draco could see that she wanted to say more, but either found it fruitless or was trying to speak carefully.

“Little late for that now, isn’t it, _Professor_?” he said with a disgusted sneer. “And I’ll be sure to let the Professors Carrow know if you ever _dare_ speak to me like this, or about my wife, ever again.” He turned to leave, marching for the door and McGonagall did not call after him.

Draco was rattled by McGonagall’s boldness all evening. Even Slughorn, who significantly favored Valeria as a student, had not been bold enough to broach the subject with Draco since her disappearance. The most he had contributed this year was pitied looks and nervous glances in their direction. Draco hadn’t realized just how bitterly he angry he was with the faculty’s inability to intervene, with anything, over the years. To his mind, they were all far too concerned about Harry Potter to notice the growing threat within their walls and right under their noses all that time. Every adult in his life, whom he trusted to various degrees, including his own father, had betrayed him in some manner, he believed. All left him now alone, too late to save him or Valeria, forcing them each to take matters into their own hands, trying to fight for a shell of a life themselves. Resentment followed Draco like a dark shadow.

He departed the Slytherin common room, arriving earlier than Longbottom to the bathroom after nightfall, illuminating the tip of his wand so as not to shine too much light and raise any suspicions if someone passed by outside.

“It’s you,” came a high, quiet voice from far back in the bathroom. Draco pointed his wand to cast its light but realized a moment later he knew exactly who spoke to him, as he had expected the possibility.

“Hello, Myrtle,” Draco greeted, stifling his impatience to speak calmly so as not to incite her infamous wrath. She floated over to him with a soft, surprised expression and Draco remembered, with some pain and embarrassment, how she, other than Valeria, had been his closest confidant all last year.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back…” she said.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been really busy. Things are different this year—” Draco was trying to be careful as well as gentle, for his own sake.

“Oh, I know!” Myrtle said dramatically. “It’s dreadful, even for the dead! Those teachers, they tell me to go away, even the other students are meaner. I’ve hardly even come out of the U-Bend!” Her expression softened when she looked at him again. “But you’re back now…We can just stay here, if you like. That window opens a little, enough for you to squeeze through and pitch yourself from. There’s room for another ghost in the toilet and we can live—erm—exist there and talk _forever_!”

Draco stifled his laughter at the ridiculous idea, but he smiled softly at her and resolved to remain gentle with the moody spirit. “That’s a…kind offer, Myrtle, but I’ve got unfinished business, I’m afraid.”

Myrtle looked sad and looked him over, her eyes landing on his left hand as she scowled. “What’s that?” she asked with disgust. Draco glanced at his wedding ring and sighed, regretting having not removed it briefly for this encounter. She wasn’t exaggerating with how long she had hidden herself away, as Draco figured that by now every being in the wizarding world, living or dead, knew about his marital status.

“I’m married, Myrtle,” Draco said. Myrtle’s scowl morphed into shock.

“But you’re too young!”

“It wasn’t exactly my idea,” Draco confessed.

Myrtle’s expressed twisted into anger. “It’s not _her_ , is it? That awful girl you couldn’t talk to?”

Draco wracked his brain as to how to respond without upsetting the ghost further. Surely, a fully honest confession of his care for Valeria, his wife, would not go over well and he needed Myrtle calm. He regretted how he spoke of Valeria last year to Myrtle, but he had to be careful not to reveal too much to the gossipy ghost. He had confessed to her, in his darkest moments, about how difficult it had been to be dishonest with Valeria all last year and his fear that she’d never forgive him for what he had been ordered to do. It seemed Myrtle took that information and interpreted it as a slight against Valeria’s character and a gross misunderstanding of the relationship he had with her.

“Yes, but it wasn’t her fault either, Myrtle. She’s not so bad and besides, she’s not even at school anymore,” Draco explained to Myrtle’s delight.

“So that means you’re free!” Myrtle said. Draco shoved his annoyance down. There would be no getting through to Myrtle. “That’s why you’re back!”

“In a way, I guess,” Draco said, hiding away a scowl. “I need your help. Someone else is going to come here in a bit and we need to use this place to listen…listen to some music without being disturbed. Is that alright with you?”

Myrtle was puzzled. “A friend of yours?”

“Not exactly.”

“As long as it’s not _her_.”

“He’s a boy, nothing to worry about. I promise.”

“But why listen to music here?” Myrtle asked distrustfully.

“I can’t explain it all right now, I’m sorry. I’ll tell you everything once this is all over, I swear,” he said, not intending to keep such a promise. Myrtle thought on it.

“You’ll visit me again?”

“Absolutely.” Another lie.

“Alright. I’ll even keep a lookout once your friend comes, if you want,” Myrtle said brightly, trying to appeal to him.

“That would be great, Myrtle. Remember, you can’t tell anyone we were here, even other ghosts,” he said. She lit up at his approval and swore to keep the rendezvous a secret. She babbled incessantly as Draco paced around while he waited. He tried to stay engaged in what she said, but Longbottom was late, and it made him perilously anxious. When Neville finally showed up, he leaned against the back of the door and sighed in relief. Draco strode to him and shoved him out of the way so he could cast a locking and muffling charm over the door.

“Oh,” Myrtle said, disappointed. “He’s not as handsome as you.” Longbottom was shocked to see the ghost and shot Draco a puzzled look.

“Don’t ask,” Draco whispered under his breath. “We need to get to work, Myrtle. Mind keeping watch?”

“Of course,” Myrtle said with a flirtatious grin and a coy tone before floating off through the wall and into the corridor outside. Longbottom raised a brow at Draco again.

“Sure you can trust Moaning Myrtle?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t let her hear you calling her that if I were you,” Draco warned. “She’s harmless, believe me.”

Longbottom scoffed. “Guess I don’t have a choice anyway.” Neville set down his bag and began to carefully and quietly remove the radio. “An arranged marriage and a dead girl with a crush. Unlucky in love, Malfoy, aren’t you?”

Draco scowled at Longbottom but kept his insults to himself. “Any trouble on the way here?”

“Had to take the long way, what with your friends running amok. No one saw me though, thankfully. I swear, if it weren’t for the others, you can be damn sure I wouldn’t be caught dead taking a risk like this,” Longbottom said, frustrated.

“Again, not my problem,” Draco shrugged. “The sooner you get that bloody contraption set up, the sooner we can both get out of here.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice…” Longbottom muttered under his breath. “Cover your ears.”

“Letting me listen is the whole fucking point—” Draco began, frustrated.

“No, while I find the password. I don’t trust you worth a damn and I don’t want you overhearing,” Longbottom said. Draco scowled, but relented. He rolled his eyes and plugged his ears with his index fingers in a dramatic fashion.

“Happy?” Draco asked. Neville said something that Draco didn’t catch, and leaned over the radio, on his knees, tapping it with his wand. Draco tapped his foot impatiently while he waited a minute or so for Longbottom to access the broadcast. When the latter finally did, he waved Draco over.

 _“The death toll continues to rise with three more confirmed deaths of muggleborn witches and wizards…”_ A familiar voice that Draco could not place spoke over the radio. Neville adjusted the volume to keep it low.

“It’ll go on like this for a while. They play the song at the end,” Neville said, adjusting to sit on the floor. Draco nodded in understanding and listened intently to the broadcast. He paced around quietly, but eventually found a spot close enough to hear, but far from Longbottom to sit. His elbows rested on his propped-up knees and he fiddled with the wedding ring, spinning it slowly around his finger. He glanced at Neville every so often, observing the latter’s despondent expression as the lists of names either missing or dead wore on. Draco tried to ignore the broadcast, not wanting to hear the consequences of the world he helped create.

 _“Suspected dead, but still unconfirmed, include Jane Masters…”_ the broadcast’s anonymous speaker said.

“That’s wrong,” Draco spoke without thinking.

“What’re you on about?” Longbottom asked.

“You should tell ‘em, if you can. Jane Masters is dead,” Draco said, looking down at the floor. He held tight to Valeria all night after it happened, she was inconsolable, clinging to him. He felt pain in his chest to remember so vividly her face as she had been ordered to torture the woman; Captured and tormented for the sole purpose of making Valeria suffer. His fingers tightened around his wedding ring.

“You know that for sure?”

Draco nodded and spoke softly. “I saw it.”

Longbottom looked down too for a moment. “Why?”

“It’s a long story. You don’t need to know.”

_“…The list continues with long missing former Hogwarts professor Charity Burbage…”_

“Saw her die too…” Draco said, trying to shake from his mind the memory of his former teacher pleading to Snape for her life, right before Draco himself fainted from the sight.

“I liked her…” Neville said absentmindedly with familiar grief.

“Same night our marriage was set up,” Draco said, his mouth running away from him, though his reasonable mind new better than to disclose too much to Longbottom. If Draco had not been looking at is wedding ring, he might have seen the flash of pity, perhaps even compassion, that for a fleeting moment was quite plain on Neville’s face. The boys sat in silence for a moment as the list dragged on, the words and names becoming all mashed together into one prolonged sound of misery and agony.

“They still making you wear that?” Longbottom said, gesturing vaguely to Draco’s hand.

“I haven’t taken it off since she put it on…at our wedding,” Draco said, feeling the phantom touch of her soft, gentle hand carefully placing it on his finger that day, her own fingers trembling only slightly. “I’m still married, aren’t I?”

“I just thought…that since she’s…not around that maybe you’d take it off for a bit. I think I would,” Neville said.

“I don’t expect you to get it. The vows said, ‘for the remainder of our days’ and she’s not dead, so we’re still married,” Draco insisted.

“I guess, I figured, since neither of you wanted it—”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Draco said, aggravated.

“Yeah, I figured.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You have no idea what it’s been—”

“Because you wouldn’t bother going through with making me do all this shit for you if there wasn’t more to it,” Longbottom said. Draco scoffed in response, scowling at Neville who he believed had no business speaking to him like this. “As much as I really despise you, hate everything you and her have done…there’s a part of me that feels very, very, sorry for you.”

“Thank you, Longbottom, that’s very helpful. I’ll be sure to tell Valeria if I ever see her again. ‘I know dangerous and miserable this is for us, but not to worry, darling, Longbottom feels sorry for us, so it’s alright.’ Have I ever told you, and I mean properly expressed, just how stupid and annoying you are?” Draco ranted sarcastically, up until his final sentence.

“Loud and clear,” Neville said with a tired exhale. He spoke again, against better judgment, after letting his anger subside for a moment. “You really think you’ll never see her again?”

“No clue,” Draco said spitefully. He was in a distracted, vulnerable state, otherwise he would not have said what he did next. “It’s probably safer for her if I don’t.”

Neville eyed him curiously. “What’s that mean?”

Draco’s gut lurched with regret and before he could shut Longbottom up again, the broadcast caught his attention once more.

 _“To conclude this broadcast we’ve got, yet again, a request from one called ‘Songbird’ to play_ The Centaur’s Waltz, _composed by Rothgale for his Enchanted Orchestra, 1755. This is dedicated to one called Unicorn Hawthorn…”_ The broadcaster sounded both confused and annoyed at the announcement, but Draco didn’t have time to care as he came closer to the radio while the song’s first few notes began.

Draco only took his eyes off the radio when he shut them. The song’s slow, elated start gave way to a jubilant cello. The song’s irony he now noticed for the first time, how low the sad strings sounded, but the notes were composed together in such away to sound bright, exultant. A woodwind accompanied the cello and other strings, weaving together somber deepness and jubilant lightness. The long song carried on for several minutes, waxing and waning in its dual moods until the strings picked up gloriously.

Tighter Draco shut his eyes, fighting back tears as his memory overcame him, showing him visions of him dancing in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor with Valeria, afraid to hold her too close, to give too much credit to their union, at the time. With guilt, he saw how beautiful she looked, despite the pain in her eyes, that day. That miserable dance gave way to other memories. The way he danced with her over Christmas to make up for that forced one, no eyes on them this time. He saw her then with her head flung back, laughing, her long hair reaching further down her back flying with her as he lifted her up by the waist into the air at the Yule Ball. He had never felt lighter of heart, nor had he ever been stronger. If gravity had not kept him firmly on the ground, he would have believed he could float up with her.

The strings gentled down, as the song, he knew, was about to come to a close. The notes were lower, but faster for a few seconds more. They were fleeting, but cutting, and the rest of the instruments joined for a few more seconds, holding their final notes together before abruptly finishing.

The airwaves went silent and both boys sat there equally silent. Draco stared long at the radio, as if he could compel the song to play again with the force of his will. When no song came, Draco got to his feet and turned away from Longbottom, not sure how long he could keep himself together, in shame.

“That mean anything to you?” Longbottom asked quietly.

“Our wedding…we danced to it…” Draco said, tensing his whole body in an effort to remain in control. Longbottom was quiet for a moment. It dawned on both of them that Valeria had managed to accomplish what to them seemed so impossible.

“That was clever of her…What do you think she’s trying to say?” Longbottom asked. Draco shook his head, not knowing the answer immediately. He was disappointed the dispatch had not come with a more direct message, like his own coded statement had. Then again it was likely better that way, in terms of safety. But really, what was there to say? The best Draco could come up with was that she had said everything he needed to hear by saying almost nothing; She was out there, somewhere. She was alive and well enough to arrange the broadcast. She was telling him that she remembered him, thought of him, understood his actions even perhaps forgiven him and, above all, that she loved him. The realization made his breath hitch.

“I—I don’t know,” Draco stuttered through his breath. He felt a few tears fall, cursing himself internally for allowing it. Neville got to his feet, but stayed away from Draco.

“You…uh…You alright?” Longbottom asked as if he could not believe what he was saying. Draco, meanwhile, had had enough.

“Get out,” Draco said.

“I’ll ask Moaning Myrtle if the coast’s clear,” Neville said. Draco whipped around before Neville could take more than a step to the door.

“I don’t give a shit, just get out!” Draco shouted, shallowly breathing. Neville looked shocked, not at Draco’s cruel outburst, but at the sight of him. Draco sniffed as he inhaled sharp, trying to stave off the oncoming onslaught of emotion. If he hadn’t been so angry, he would have noticed, even in the relative darkness, Neville looking at him with inexplicable, unexpected empathy. Longbottom didn’t argue as Draco turned away from him, collecting the radio clumsily into his bag and left as quickly and silently as he could.

Once Draco heard the door shut behind Longbottom, he let himself go, doubled over as her coughed through his own sobs. His mind swirled with memories as the song continued to play ceaselessly in his head. He doused his face in water from the sink, but it did little soothe him, pained by just how lost he was without Valeria. He looked at himself in the mirror, eyes red and puffy, face twisted with emotion and he might have otherwise found it a little funny how he had come full circle; Sobbing pathetically alone in a bathroom once again with only a dead girl for company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an angsty angry Draco this time, sorry. It would have been too long to include Valeria's exploits too and I needed to catch him up to level out the timeline. Thanks for all the comments, I adore them, as well as the kudos and equally the silent readers. I appreciate all of it. Stay well, stay safe.


	33. The Heist

_"How are you still here, after everything?" he asked._

_"I've always been here," she replied._

_*****_

“Are you she’d wear that?” Harry asked as the group went over the plan, once again, the eve of their departure. Valeria held up the robes she had left Malfoy Manor in, now cleaned and repaired thanks to Fleur’s help. Valeria nodded as she looked them over to ensure they were good as new.

“Narcissa bought these for me to begin with,” she said of the garments. The style was much more befitting an older woman, elegant but a bit matronly in just how conservative the garment was. Most of the clothes Narcissa had supplied her new wardrobe with were similar in that respect, but Valeria didn’t try to raise a complaint at the time. “I’ll have to make some changes to them.”

“Why?” Ron asked.

“These are fitted for me. Narcissa is a bit taller than me,” Valeria said.

“Does that matter?” Harry asked. He was anxious, nervous about any missed detail.

“Narcissa Malfoy would never leave the house with poorly fitted robes,” Valeria said.

“She’s got a point,” Hermione said.

“Right. Got it,” Harry said, agreeing.

Valeria was not too thrilled with the haphazard plan. She did not possess Narcissa’s wand, nor her identification papers, and she was nervous that simply looking and acting like her mother-in-law would not suffice. Harry curtly reassured her that her job was simply to provide backup to Hermione and help them all stave off any suspicion that would come their way, due to her experience in the Dark Lord’s new order. Valeria resigned herself to get them as far as she could, but she feared it wouldn’t be enough.

Despite the tension brought on by their uneasy alliance with Valeria, they all agreed, for once, that Bellatrix’s wand disgusted them. Hermione hated it and Valeria had sympathy for both her and Harry, knowing it to be the wand that scarred her face and murdered Konstantin. Valeria had sat long enough with her own sins, stewing in her own darkness, that it did not surprise her to feel a tinge of regret for having not finished Bellatrix, her own kin by marriage, off. Though she did not express this to the others.

Valeria spent the evening alone, marinating in her own fears of what was to come at dawn. What she feared more was the uncertainty of what would come after. Harry, nor the others, seemed to have a hope or prayer of a plan for afterwards, even if they were successful and unscathed. They kept her along out of spiteful necessity, she knew, and would be more than happy to see her off on her way, if they felt it wise. But she knew, looking out at the sea for the final time before departure, that she would never rest easy again with Draco’s fate and well-being uncertain. If it came to betraying the trio’s trust for her own ends, she would.

She wondered if Draco would be able to hear her own cryptic message to him by way of the song on the pirate radio. She had been so obsessed with reaching him that the reality of him actually being able to access it had not sunk in when she planned it. There was no one around him that would be stupid enough to let him know of the broadcast’s existence, and Draco had none of the information to seek it out himself. She liked to think that it found its way to him, in spite of the odds, but she was not so naïve enough to dwell on the futility of hope for too long.

“Is it hard to leave this place?”

Valeria nearly jumped, holding back some choice words for Luna Lovegood, having once again snuck up on her.

“I don’t know,” Valeria said honestly. She liked the sea, but that was all she could say she’d miss, in all honesty. Shell Cottage could have been a peaceful place, and even though the others did their best to tolerate her presence, she knew that they were relieved to see her go and she could not deny that feeling was somewhat mutual.

“I think it might be harder to stay,” Lovegood said, standing beside Valeria. Valeria took her meaning, knowing her father was likely trapped in Azkaban after his encounter with Potter. Being so impotent to act when a loved one’s life might have been on the line was a feeling Valeria understood implicitly and the hardness of her heart cracked a little.

“I’m sorry, Lovegood. About all of it. Really,” Valeria said. Luna was silent for a moment. Valeria did not expect nor desire her forgiveness.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Luna said with a lower tone than usual.

“They seem to know what they’re doing,” Valeria said, referring to Potter and his friends.

“No, I meant you. Just you,” Luna said. She started across the beach towards the house before Valeria could respond, unnerved once again by Lovegood’s brand of cryptic. 

Valeria slept surprisingly well that night, though plagued by frightening dreams in which Draco featured in most of them. In the wee hours she put on the robes she had arrived in. She looked herself over in the mirror one last time, before setting off to find Hermione in the garden for their reluctant transformation. She joined Hermione and Griphook by Dobby’s grave.

“He was the strangest house elf I think I’ve ever met,” Valeria said.

“He was one of the bravest—” Hermione quickly began, a bit defensive.

“I didn’t mean…I just said I don’t think I’ve known another like him,” Valeria said, which calmed Hermione.

“Did you know him well?” Hermione asked. Valeria shook her head in the negative.

“I don’t think Lucius would even bring him up after he…left their service,” Valeria said with a little smirk. “Made excellent food though. That was always the best part of visiting the Malfoys when I was younger.” It was hard to see in the darkness, but she thought she could sense Hermione smiling a little too. Hermione handed Valeria the vial containing Narcissa’s long, blonde hair and began preparing the potion for them.

“Have you ever taken Polyjuice Potion before?” Hermione asked.

Valeria shook her head. “Made it, but never drank it.”

“It’s an…experience. It’s going to feel really odd, just don’t freak out, it’ll pass,” Hermione said. Valeria was not reassured but did not argue with her. Hermione handed a partially filled vial of the potion and Valeria performed the final act of planting Narcissa’s hair in the vile substance. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Valeria said, grateful she didn’t have to see the sludgy liquid thanks to the twilight darkness. Simultaneously, Valeria and Hermione drank. Valeria immediately winced, the instinctual urge to recoil and spit out the potion nearly overwhelming her. She felt it slowly flow down her throat, making her stomach turn. She felt nauseous, on the verge of vomiting, before she felt her skin start to burn and bubble like it was boiling. She held back cries of pain and discomfort so as not to wake the others in the cottage and doubled over.

Hacking and coughing, trying to keep the potion down as her stomach lurched, she felt each and every inch of her body morph and change. The bones in her legs and spine felt as though they were growing and muscles elongating with them. She could have sworn she felt hair sprout from roots on her head. Painfully her jaw narrowed and became pointed and even her eyes burned as they changed. Valeria steadied her breathing once the ordeal was over and shaking a little brought herself to stand straight up.

Valeria immediately realized she was taller, having a slightly different view of the landscape now that she found disorienting, like wearing a pair of shoes with too high a heel. In the limited light, she could see fair hair hanging past her shoulder. She looked to her hands, flipping her palms face-up and face-down noticing mostly signs of age on her skin. Valeria looked to Hermione who was standing up and had to collect herself at the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Did it work?” Valeria asked, taken aback at hearing Narcissa’s voice coming from her own mouth. Hermione illuminated the tip of her wand a little and looked her over, nodding. Hermione summoned a small mirror from her beaded bag and handed it to Valeria. She looked at her face, her scar now gone, but then she felt her skin metaphorically crawl as Narcissa’s reflection looked back at her. Being in the body of Draco’s mother, so to speak, was a thought she did not want to linger upon. Valeria used her wand to style her hair in one of her mother-in-law’s preferred styles and used a cosmetic spell to do the same to her face.

“Your ring,” Hermione said as if just remembering. Valeria looked down at her left hand, still wearing the bands representing her marriage to Draco.

“Can we transfigure them?” Valeria asked.

“Maybe…What do hers look like?” Hermione asked. Valeria described it, to the best of her memory, as Hermione set the work fixing the purple-jeweled ring Draco had given her many months ago that had belonged to her own family. “How’s that?”

“It’ll do,” Valeria said, looking it over with middling confidence. Hesitantly, she took the serpentine ward Draco had also given her off her right arm and handed it to Hermione. “There’s no way I can hide that under these sleeves.” Valeria didn’t know how common the knowledge was of the ward she wore, but she wore it constantly, so she did not want to risk anyone recognizing it, if it came to that.

“It’ll be safe in here and I’ll give it back once we’re safe. Promise,” Hermione said, stashing it in her bag. Valeria felt even more uncomfortable, less like herself and vulnerable without it. The next order of business was attending to her robes, which were all wrong on Narcissa’s body; Too tight in places they shouldn’t have been, too loose in others and much too short at the hem and sleeves. She fixed them as Hermione herself did some finishing touches on her hair and transfigured clothes.

“How do I look?” Hermione asked. Valeria illuminated her own wand and gave Hermione the mirror.

“Convincing enough,” Valeria judged. “No sudden moves. Be sure to scowl as often as you can and remember Bellatrix and Narcissa are close, so we have to behave like it. She calls her Cissy a lot…” Valeria said, spewing out last minute advice at the risk of overwhelming a nervous enough Hermione. They met Ron and Harry and after taking a few moments to adjust to the young women’s new appearances, Hermione set to work disguising Ron.

“Leaky Cauldron, remember. Are we ready?” Hermione asked. All in agreement and on Harry’s final word, they all set off, leaving Shell Cottage behind. They quickly set off inside after confirming all had safely arrived to get away from the muggles tiredly shuffling about for their morning commutes, though none of them seemed to notice the Black sisters and their disguised companion, Ron. Harry and Griphook were naturally safest under the cloak.

The inn was nearly deserted as they were greeted by the landlord, Tom. Valeria was still miffed about him having ratted her out to Dumbledore during her stay the summer before her sixth year and so found it easy to turn up her nose and only nod to him as she passed. Harry chastised Hermione for greeting Tom too warmly and Valeria rolled her eyes, muttering under breath for Harry to keep quiet.

Diagon Alley was an even sorrier sight than Valeria remembered from her and Draco’s visit earlier this year. More stores dedicated to the Dark Arts had popped up and even more previous businesses were locked and boarded up. Harry’s wanted poster was plastered everywhere she looked, and Valeria’s own missing poster with the words, _HAVE YOU SEEN VALERIA MALFOY_ were almost as frequent. There were still some weathered looking posters of her and Draco at their wedding with a propagandistic message calling for young people to pair off and follow their example. None of the trio said a word about it as they made their way down the darkened streets, but she could sense their tension as they strode.

The beggars, each crying out with pleading messages for gold, missing loved ones or otherwise insisting they were true witches and wizards were hard for Valeria to ignore. She kept her gaze forward, stern and vacant of feeling. This worked for her, but for whatever reason, one thought it wise to lunge at Hermione, but was stunned unconscious by Ron before Valeria could act.

“Why, Madam Lestrange, Madam Malfoy,” a man greeted upon approach. Valeria recognized him immediately as Travers.

“And what do you want?” Hermione rudely asked. Valeria would have scolded Hermione for finally following her advice to be haughty and short at exactly the wrong time. Travers was expressly taken aback by the false Bellatrix’s outburst.

“Forgive my sister, Travers. It’s still so early in the morning,” Valeria spoke as Narcissa, ignoring Griphook’s whispers. 

“Apologies, ladies, I merely sought to greet you, but if my presence is not welcome…” Travers said, trailing off.

“No, no, not at all, Travers. How are you?” Hermione rushed in her speech.

“Well, I confess I am surprised to see you both out and about,” he said.

“Really? Why?” Hermione asked.

“Well, I heard that the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the...ah...escape,” Travers said awkwardly. Valeria’s heart sunk, having not known that vital piece of information before they planned this whole scheme. “To that end, Mrs. Malfoy, I’d like to offer my sympathies to you and your family. What happened to your daughter-in-law…your son must be beside himself.

“Draco is managing the best he can, Travers, thank you. We appreciate that,” Valeria said, his words stinging her further.

“We are doing all we can to find her and deliver her home safely. That poor girl has been through enough as it is,” Travers said. “So, is it true then? What’s the news at Malfoy Manor?” Valeria searched for an excuse. A good reason Narcissa and Bellatrix would be permitted to break their confinement. Thankfully, Hermione was a bit faster in her wits.

“The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faithfully in the past. Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers,” Hermione said. Valeria found herself impressed with Hermione’s performance and thankful that the answer staved off Travers’s suspicion for the moment. Travers looked to the beggar.

“How did it offend you?” he asked.

“He lunged at us, shouting some sort of nonsense,” Valeria said. “I’ve been telling Lucius for some time that something must be done about them. They are an eyesore and a blight on our society.”

“It does not matter, Cissy. It won’t try anything again,” Hermione said.

“All in due time, Madam Malfoy, all in due time,” Travers said reassuringly. “Some of these wandless can be troublesome. While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them actually asked me to plead her case in the Ministry last week. ‘I'm a witch, sir, I'm a witch, let me prove it to you!’ As if I was going to give her my wand.”

“How vile,” Valeria said, feigning disgust.

“Indeed, but whose wand are you using at the moment, Bellatrix? I heard that your own was—” Travers began as Valeria’s heart sunk with dread again.

“I have my wand here. I don't know what rumors you have been listening to, Travers, but you seem sadly misinformed,” Hermione said, once again impressing Valeria. After interrogating after Ron’s identity, Valeria was dismayed that Travers tagged along with them to Gringotts. She wanted to bail now, come up with some excuse to run, but there was no way to do so without triggering Travers’s suspicions again. Harry, thankfully, took care of the Probity Probes and they barely eked out access into the bank. Hermione behaved taken aback at being asked for her identification and Valeria stepped forward.

“Are you accusing my sister of something, sir?” she asked.

“It is simply a precaution, Mrs. Malfoy,” the goblin said. “Your wand will do, Madam Lestrange.”

It started to break down. Harry’s use of the Imperius Curse caused the goblin to make Travers suspicious and then he needed to be subdued with the same curse in turn, though Harry only had the chance to mention it when they were setting off to the Lestrange vault. Valeria had a sinking feeling in her gut that this was all going to end very badly. Harry, however, still insisted they push ahead.

“Next time leave the dark curses to me,” Valeria whispered snidely to Harry after his confession of not knowing how strong the curses were.

“One of you has to stay behind. There’s no room in the cart,” Griphook said after Harry had imperiused Travers to skulk off in a hiding spot.

“I can keep an eye out up here,” Valeria volunteered.

“No. We have to stick together,” Harry insisted, thinking. Harry was already in charge of Griphook and he looked at Ron and Valeria with a sympathetic expression. “You two have to pair up.”

“Excuse me?!” Valeria said.

“Put her in my lap, you mean?” Ron said, disgusted.

“If that works then do it,” Harry said.

“Absolutely not!” Valeria protested.

“Just do it and hurry up!” Hermione hissed out. Ron settled in the cart and neither looked at the other as Valeria balanced herself to sit on his knee, trying to keep as modest a distance from him as feasible, but needing to hang onto him in some respect as the cart moved. If it hadn’t been so dire, hadn’t been so much tension between them, it might have been a comical sight to see Narcissa Malfoy in the lap of a disguised Ron Weasley, but neither he nor Valeria found much humor in the predicament. Ron was decent enough to hold Valeria in place as the cart sped along, deeper into Gringotts than Valeria had ever been, but it was short lived when they were all doused in water and ejected from the tracks. Valeria fumbled for her wand as she fell, but not fast enough and to her surprise landed easily on the ground. Hermione had been quicker on her feet with the Cushioning Charm. Valeria looked down at her hands, recognizing them as her own and pulled some of her hair into view and seeing it was the dark brown color of her own. Her robes hung past her ankles and her sleeves were too long.

“Shit,” Valeria said under her breath. Griphook explained that they were caught, and Valeria was enraged, overwhelmed by hopelessness. “I told you all this was a terrible idea!”

“We don’t have a choice now!” Harry cried out in response, having none of it. Harry cast the Imperius Curse on Bogrod, once more ignoring Valeria’s advice that she do it, on Griphook’s insistence. Left with little choice, Valeria lifted the bottom of her robes for easier movement and followed the group, coming to a grinding halt with the rest of them at the terrible sight of the elderly dragon guarding the Lestrange vault.

Valeria pitied the creature as it cowered in fear of the clankers and illuminated her wand on Griphook’s order once they were closed inside the Lestrange vault. It was filled with glittering treasures, to be expected, but Valeria too suspected that there were many other secrets of the old Lestrange family hidden within. There was little time to ruminate on such thoughts after Hermione managed to burn herself on a goblet and the damn thing multiplied.

“We need to get out of here!” Valeria insisted after Griphook explained the enchantments on the objects within, not wanting to be crushed to death within the Lestrange vault of all places. The others ignored her and told her to keep searching, despite the treasures multiplying around them. Valeria hardly had time to look, trying to dance out of the way of the objects, her robes or skin getting singed wherever they touched her. The vault became hot and stifling, the air getting harder to breathe, even as Harry insisted he found the goblet they were after. He took up the Sword of Gryffindor and thought aloud for a way to reach the cup when Valeria was startled by the dragon’s roar.

Panicked at their entrapment, Valeria believed it was over, regretting her decision not to escape away from the group when she had so many chances at Shell Cottage. Everything descended into pure chaos around her as she and Hermione cast charms left and right in attempt to protect themselves or stave off their inevitable demises. Valeria paid no attention to what Harry was doing. She was soon trapped with the others in a sea of hot metal, her body covered in an excruciating burning sensation when the vault burst open and they all came tumbling out, riding the wave of multiplied items. A curse flew past Valeria’s ear and she ducked down even as the objects burned her further. Valeria instinctively flung hexes and curses at their attackers with the trio.

“ _Metus Caligoria_!” Valeria cried, stumbling to her feet and aiming at their attackers. A thick fog poured out from the tip of her wand and enveloped those closest within it, though it was not enough to reach all of them. Those surrounded by mist cried out fearfully and stopped attacking, giving Harry enough time, unbeknownst to Valeria at present, to free the dragon.

“What the hell are you doing to them?!” Ron shouted in response their opponents’ cries.

“They aren’t actually hurt; Do you want my help or not!?” Valeria shouted indignantly, trying to maintain focus on the obscure curse, discovered in Konstantin’s book of dark magic, which enveloped opponents in a disorienting fog and triggered confusion and fear.

“Valeria! Come on!” Harry cried out and she glanced back to see him climbing the elderly dragon. With no time to think, she followed and clumsily climbed onto the dragon’s back with the others, her ill-fitting robes inhibiting her movement some still. The dragon roared as Valeria held on for dear life, scattering the goblins as it spread its wings. Valeria felt her heart fly up into her throat as it ascended, burying her face in its steel-like scales and closing her eyes as tight as she could. This proved to be wiser than she anticipated as the dragon burst through into main lobby of Gringotts. Valeria ignored the panicked cries of goblins and wizards alike.

She thought of hopping off the dragon’s back during the brief pause the dragon took but knew she would be unable to get out of Gringotts before being apprehended and taken forcibly back to Malfoy Manor, where the true Bellatrix was confined. Passing over the opportunity, she gripped harder on the dragon’s scales before it burst through the entrance and she screamed as it took off once more. 

Draco had been called out of class early and summoned to Snape’s office immediately. He obeyed, hiding away his fear on what he would be told or what would be asked of him. He approached Snape’s desk after being permitted entry and the Headmaster gestured for Draco to sit.

“What is it?” Draco asked with nervous anticipation.

“I have news,” Snape said cryptically, sparking Draco’s fierce attention but not soothing his anxieties.

“Are you going to tell me then!?” Draco asked, moving to sit at the edge of his seat.

“There’s been a break-in at Gringotts. At first it appeared your mother and aunt were present—”

“That’s not possible. They can’t leave the house—” Draco protested, fearing for his mother’s life.

“If you’d allow me to finish,” Snape said coldly. “That suspicion has been quelled and it was proven that they were still at Malfoy Manor in compliance with their confinement at the time.”

“Then what does this have to do with me?” Draco asked impatiently, not fathoming who would even attempt a Gringotts break-in, let alone how he would be involved.

“It was Potter. Along with Granger, Weasley and several confirmed reports of Valeria being with them,” Snape said slowly. Draco’s jaw hovered open and his lip quivered as the news washed over him. His mind was barraged with questions that he could not manage to give voice to in the fleeting seconds that passed between the two of them.

“Where is she now?” Draco demanded, fearing her capture.

“The culprits, and Valeria, managed to escape on dragon back of all things,” Snape said, sitting back in his chair. He spoke again, reading Draco’s stunned expression. “It had been used to guard a particular vault.” Draco hid his relief that Valeria had not been captured and delivered to his aunt from Snape. “Draco, can you think of a reason Valeria would attempt to aid Potter in his efforts to undermine the Dark Lord?”

Draco looked up at Snape with dread. “What do you mean?!”

“It seems that Valeria and one of the other culprits; There are mixed reports, but it’s believed to be Granger, somehow managed to disguise themselves as your mother and aunt, respectively to gain access to the bank. It’s been passed onto me that Valeria appeared to be helping them escape, casting curses, helping maintain the disguise, according to Travers and the like,” Snape explained.

“No!” Draco protested angrily. “She wouldn’t do that. Potter must have used the Imperius Curse or promised her something and lied or—”

“Draco, we both know I know what you did—”

“Then what do you want from me? Are you going to punish _me_ for whatever Potter dragged her into?!”

“I am simply warning you that if there’s any plausible chance that Valeria assisted Potter then you need to think very carefully about how you proceed,” Snape said. Draco got out of his seat.

“She didn’t! Valeria has been nothing, but loyal this entire time—!”

“There are those who suspect otherwise,” Snape said, raising his voice a tad. “Considering Hieronymus and Konstantin’s failures and actions at the Department of Mysterious and the disturbing amount of time Valeria spent with the Order, there’s a little too much room for doubt. Your aunt, whom your wife nearly murdered, I remind you, especially seems to be under the impression—”

“She’s _wrong_ ,” Draco said through his teeth.

“That may be so. But I feel it’s my duty to remind you that her actions reflect upon you and you should tread cautiously,” Snape said.

“Is that a threat?” Draco said with scowl.

“A warning,” Snape corrected. “You are still married to her, remember.”

Draco held up his left hand between them and nodded towards the ring on his finger. “This reminds me every goddamn day.”

Draco stormed out of the room without being dismissed and Snape did not call after him. He had tried to act tough, insist on Valeria’s innocence, but his heart swelled with fear for her. He was selfishly happy to know that she was alive and out of reach of the Death Eaters, for now. But he found himself furious with Harry Potter once more who he had stupidly trusted to deliver Valeria to safety, not pull her into his suicidal schemes. He, better than many in his cohort, knew just how involved Valeria had been with Potter and his friends in the past. Although that was years ago, in a different world, it would still count against her now. He knew, better than anyone, just what her feelings were on their predicament and the world at large.

There was therefore a possibility she had willingly aided Potter, though he could not imagine why for the life of him Valeria would be so senseless as to attempt something so dangerously idiotic. To his mind, Potter must have influenced her in some way, though whether it was a matter of simply asking for her help or some other, more forceful, means he could not hazard a guess.

Word travelled fast at Hogwarts, despite attempts by the Carrows to quell rumors. Draco pulled Daphne aside in the Slytherin common room to talk to her. He trusted her now, having proved a better ally in the absence of Valeria than he could have previously imagined.

“What the fuck is happening?” she asked. “Do you know something?”

“She was with them,” Draco said. Daphne was slacked-jawed.

“What?! Why?! How?!”

“I don’t know,” Draco hissed. “Snape just told me she was there. She’s alive.”

Daphne stood stunned for a second. “Malfoy, this is really bad. If she’s with Potter, then people will think—”

“I know,” he said, a bit defeated. Daphne bit her lip.

“Maybe she’s just using him. She was always good at playing nice with both sides…” Daphne said with the little hope she could manage to muster. Draco shifted his weight and ran his hand through his hair.

“I don’t know if that can help her now,” he said with fear.

“NOW!” Harry cried out and reluctantly letting go, Valeria fell into the freezing water below, her thick robes quickly weighing her down as they absorbed the water. She fought her way to the surface, her body exhausted from clinging so tightly to the dragon for hours and swam towards the others. Valeria did not try to get to her feet at first when she crawled onto the shore, rolling onto her back to just catch her breath. She looked around as she feebly sat up, trying to orient herself in the unfamiliar landscape and failing. She looked behind her to see Harry casting protective enchantments.

“Valeria…” Hermione said, sounding exhausted and handing her a bottle of dittany. Valeria gratefully took and tended to the many miserable burns on her body. The break-in at Gringotts hours ago felt like a bizarre dream, reeling with disbelief at what she had done. Hermione handed her ward back to her along with some freshly clean robes for Valeria, telling her Fleur had loaned them. Valeria drank down the pumpkin juice Hermione then gave her, forgetting until now just how hungry she was. She ignored the first part of their conversation, mind blank, trying to come up with some sort of plan to proceed.

This was her second chance to leave, but where she would go was another story entirely. Her home in Wales was the safest, but the most useless. She wanted to get back to Draco, that’s all that mattered to her, but going to Hogwarts now, after what had just happened, was another matter entirely.

“What are we going to do, though?" said Hermione, and Valeria’s attention snapped back to the group, feeling strong enough to walk over and join them. “He'll know, won't he? You-Know-Who will know we know about his Horcruxes!”

That was a possibility that Valeria kicked herself for not having sooner realized. The entire wizarding world would know what happened and that she was with them. She suddenly felt trapped to the spot, her ill-formed scheme to abandon the group beyond hopeless.  
  
“Maybe they'll be too scared to tell him! Maybe they'll cover it up—” Ron said.

Valeria scoffed. “Even if they don’t tell him right away, all the other Death Eaters will know and probably already do. We’re fucked.” Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cried out for Harry. Valeria turned to see him slowly collapsing and his friends rushed to get him to lie down. “What’s wrong with him?”

“It…It’s when he sees things. Sees him,” Hermione explained, and Valeria remembered what Harry told her about seeing the Malfoy’s punishment shortly after their escape. They all waited in silence, Hermione whispering Harry’s name once in a while as they waited for him to come to. When Harry came to, he explained to them what he saw, horrifying Valeria at what the Dark Lord had done.

“Are you mad?!” Valeria shouted at them at the mere suggestion of going to Hogwarts. “We can’t go there, especially you three.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Harry gravely protested.

“No,” Valeria insisted. “Even if it wasn’t suicide, there’s no way you can even get into the school.”

Harry perked up and looked at her. “You know better than us. What kind of protections—”

Valeria scoffed and gestured in defeat. “Every secret passage has been closed off and guarded, so there’s no way in or out other than the main entrance, which is guarded too. Death Eaters roam the grounds and obviously inside the school. They’re at Hogsmeade and most of all the Dementors float about the grounds constantly. There is no way you can get in undetected.” They looked dismayed at Valeria’s information. She explained further as they questioned her, eventually deciding, despite Valeria’s protests, to apparate to Hogsmeade. “We barely made it out of Gringotts…I just…I can’t.”

“We can’t leave you here. You know—” Harry said.

“I know! ‘I know too much,’ you can stop reminding me. I don’t give a damn about the Horcruxes or whatever you three think might work! I am just trying to make it out of this alive!” Valeria said. “This is a death wish!”

“You were seen with us, helping us,” Harry began after a moment, his tone low. “They already know you were there. _He_ knows. Do you really think Malfoy is safe anymore?”

The thought struck fear into Valeria’s already distressed heart. “Don’t—” she said, tears of stress welling in her eyes.

“We’re not stupid. You’ve made it clear Malfoy’s your priority. I don’t understand, but this might be your last chance to help him. So help _us_ ,” Harry said.

“You have a choice, Valeria,” Hermione said after a moment. Valeria wiped the tears from her eyes. Perhaps she was already in too deep. Perhaps it was too late to do things her way. She recalled Draco’s near constant words of warning; How everything she did would fall on his head. He had been spared in the event of her disappearance, but Valeria could not say what would happen to him now, in light of her aid in the Gringotts fiasco. She clenched her fists, feeling the wedding band press the skin between the fingers on her left hand. Several moments passed before she spoke.

“How do you even propose to do this?” Valeria said, her fear overcome by her concern for Draco. They went over the plan, not nearly as well thought out as the Gringotts scheme, but that was not a high bar to meet, in Valeria’s opinion.

“There’s not enough room for all four of us under the cloak,” Hermione said.

They were silent again. At least one of them would have to remain outside of it at tremendous risk, if not the threat of death. Valeria wracked her brain for a way, trying to pull from everything she remembered from being at Hogwarts, some way, but found nothing. Harry was too valuable and would compromise it all if he were caught. There was no way the group would split up for something this dangerous. Valeria nodded, accepting.

“I’ll stay out,” Valeria said. Ron looked away awkwardly. Harry looked stunned by her volunteering.

“They’re after you too. We can at least hide our faces under the cloak—” Harry said.

“Then it’ll be up to our knees and it’ll be useless,” Valeria said, knowing that they all knew too. “If they catch me, I’ll have more time than the rest of you. They won’t take me to the Dark Lord, you’re the one he wants, Harry.”

“What if they—?” Ron said.

“They won’t. I’m still married to a Death Eater, remember? They won’t hurt me, not right away. I can buy you time,” Valeria said.

“But what if you can’t get back to Malfoy? Isn’t that what you want?” Harry asked. Valeria nodded, looking to the ground.

“If I’m found…he might be able to find a way to get back to me. Word travels fast amongst the Death Eaters. Stop arguing with me,” Valeria said.

“She’s right, Harry. She has the best chance out of all of us—” Hermione said.

“I know!” Harry said. “I still don’t _want_ —”

“I’ve made my choice, Potter,” Valeria said. A moment of dreadful silence passed between all four of them.

“I want you to know…I—We never wanted this. Even after all of it,” Harry said.

“That hardly matters, does it, Potter?” Valeria said, without spite. Potter’s reasons, his intentions didn’t matter to her.

“If this goes wrong, if You-Know-Who stops us…You should get yourself out,” Potter said, thinking aloud, coming to terms with the fact that he was asking someone to potentially sacrifice themselves for his sake.

Valeria shook her head. “Not without Draco.”

“Is that what he wants?” Harry asked.

“It’s what I want,” Valeria said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favorite chapter, admittedly, ha! We're hurtling to the end here. There was a lot of canon to work around, so sorry about that or if I missed a detail. Thank you all so much for your interesting and lovely comments and kudos.


	34. Return to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mild magical and non-magical violence.

_"It's like the war never ended," he said._

_"I don't think, for us, it_ _ever did."_

_*****_

_“That seat’s open. You can sit there if you like,” Harry offered at the Quidditch World Cup. Valeria hated being dragged along to yet another one. She had begged her parents to let her stay with a friend, but her father had scolded her on the importance of making appearances to these sorts of events as a family. She had approached Potter and his friends, surprised to find them in such company, to greet them; Still on cordial terms with them. Valeria smiled at Harry, relieved to have a break from spending all her time with her family, and was about to accept Potter’s offer when her mother, the silver haired Odessa, interrupted._

_“School friends of yours?” Odessa asked with a raised eyebrow. Valeria straightened up._

_“Mother, this is Hermione Granger, she’s the top of the class. That’s Mr. Weasley’s son Ron in my year and this is Harry Potter. This is my mother, Odessa,” Valeria introduced. The trio smiled with varying degrees of awkward politeness at Valeria’s subtly formidable mother. Odessa’s face relaxed and curled her lips into a charmed smirk._

_“The pleasure is all mine,” she said before turning back to Valeria. “Darling, why don’t you go sit next to Draco. He looks a bit on his own.” Valeria glanced to see Draco pouting and looking at Konstantin who had chosen to sit on the other end of the row, closer to where Bill and their father sat. Konstantin and Bill looked to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, excited for the match and bantering back and forth about their own Quidditch days back at Hogwarts. The last free spot was beside Narcissa, a place she assumed Odessa would fill. Disappointed, Valeria looked pleadingly at her mother._

_“But I’ve been with him all weekend,” Valeria said. The Winters, living all the way in Wales, had gone first to Malfoy Manor before the World Cup in order to shorten the final journey._

_“That’s because part of this trip is to visit with the Malfoys,” Odessa said._

_“I’ll visit with him all the time at school,” Valeria protested._

_“Valeria…” her mother said with a scolding tone that made her a bit fearful. She snapped out of her rebellious trance and straightened up._

_“Alright. I’m sorry, mother,” Valeria said before turning to her Gryffindor acquaintances. “I’ll see you guys around." She begrudgingly took the seat beside Draco, who was still sulking._

_“I don’t understand why you talk to them,” he said._

_“They’re not that bad, Draco,” she replied, rolling her eyes. He scoffed._

_“They’re below us,”_

_“You know, being nice to people, especially ones you don’t like, will get you further ahead than being a royal git,” she said._

_“Who says?”_

_“My father. He always says it’s important to play all sides.”_

Valeria got her bearings as her feet touched down in Hogsmeade, glancing near her she saw six feet peeking out from Harry’s invisibility cloak. She looked behind her and her heart dropped to see Hogwarts in the darkened distance, a black silhouette against the night sky. There was no turning back. This was as far as they had pitifully planned in all the urgency, spurred on by the Dark Lord’s realization of Potter’s mission. With little time to think, perhaps not even a few seconds, her thoughts went first to Konstantin and the letter that had driven her to make her declaration to aid the Order, however short lived her service truly was. Next she thought of Draco and how the hell she could get to him now, so close and yet so hopelessly out of reach.

The dreadful silence in the dark looming air was burst by the horrific scream that served as an alarm, and though she was unsurprised to hear it, the faint hope within her died at the sound. The bright light from the Three Broomsticks flooded the street, forcing Valeria to squint as her eyes had been adjusting to the darkness. Hooded Death Eaters rushed into the street, wands drawn, from the Three Broomsticks.

“Run,” Valeria whispered as loudly as she could to the trio without being overheard by the Death Eaters, her voice fortunately drowned by the screaming alarm. Her warning came too late. There was no time and nowhere for them to run.

“It has to be Potter!” one of the Death Eaters, a voice Valeria recognized but could not place in all the confusion, shouted.

 _“In any game, you must play all sides, by any means necessary…”_ Valeria remembered her father’s words.

Valeria fell to her knees dramatically and held up her hands to show she was unarmed and cried out, feigning sobs.

“Please help me!” she shouted over the voices of the Death Eaters. One of them illuminated their wand to see her clearer and she blinked in the light. “I’m Valeria Malfoy!” That silenced them briefly.

“Is it her, Dolohov?” one of them asked. The light in her face was so blinding that she could not see beyond it, nor anyone standing around her.

“Looks like,” Dolohov confirmed.

“What happened to her face?” another asked.

“I heard that Lestrange…Well, y’know,” Dolohov cryptically explained. The others took his meaning, recalling the same thing. “Where’s Potter?!”

“I—I don’t know!” Valeria fearfully cried out. “It all happened so fast. I only got away from them moments ago a—and I don’t know if they followed me here!”

“And why were you seen aiding their theft at Gringotts, Mrs. Malfoy?” Dolohov asked threateningly. Valeria sobbed again.

“They forced me! They used the Imperius Curse! Please, I didn’t want to…They were cruel to me. You can take me to Snape, he’s a Legilimens, he’ll tell you I’m not lying!” Valeria said, choosing her words extremely carefully despite how pathetic she needed her performance to appear. Snape had helped her once, wiping parts of her memory for her own good. If she could get into the school to see him, she could possibly get to Draco.

“I know about Snape! How did you escape? Why did Potter take _you_ in the first place?” Dolohov asked.

“Because him and his blood traitor friends have done it before, sir, remember? He heard Draco tell Mrs. Lestrange that I might be…sir, it’s unbecoming of me to say, but you know. Potter wanted to hold me and possibly Draco’s heir hostage to weaken us and make me do his bidding!” Valeria said, employing Draco’s own lie to avoid interrogation, to save her own skin and buy Potter time. She prayed it would be enough to distract them. “The beast, the dragon, it dropped us and that’s when the Imperius Curse broke. I managed to overtake Potter and get my wand and escape.”

“Filthy degenerates,” one of the Death Eaters spat in disgust. She was relieved; At least some of them were buying it, to her surprise.

“Why did you come here and not Malfoy Manor?” Dolohov asked. Valeria cried out pathetically.

“It was so fast, sir…I just wanted to see Draco…Please, you have to believe me…I—I’m sorry…” she stuttered out, weeping.

“Dolohov, stop. Just look at her,” a female Death Eater said. Dolohov lowered his wand and Valeria saw flashes as her eyes struggled to adjust. She let out a little yelp as Dolohov pulled her to her feet by her arm.

“It’s likely Potter followed her. _Accio, cloak_ ,” Dolohov said, but the cloak didn’t move. “Not under your wrapper, then, Potter? Spread now. He's here. I’m certain.”

“What about her?” the female Death Eater asked.

“I’ll take care of it. Alert Snape and find Potter!” Dolohov ordered. Wand still at the ready and gripping Valeria hard by the arm, he pulled her down the street and away from the others. The shouting of the Death Eaters’ search for Potter faded into the distance and Valeria knew she was on her own. She looked back after they were almost out of the village and, broken out of the chaos, at once realized that they were heading in the opposite direction of Hogwarts.

“Sir, where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Out of the village so we can disapparate,” Dolohov said firmly.

“Please, I need to talk to Draco—” she said.

“He’s going to be busy after they find Potter. The Malfoys have missed you. I’ve heard Lestrange apparently is anxious to see you. Not to worry, if your husband really managed to get you…Well, you’ll be safe until it's born at least,” Dolohov said cruelly, making her stomach turn before the panic set in.

“When Lucius hears you’ve talked to me like this—!” Valeria said, trying to scare him, struggling against his grip. He stopped and gripped her arm harder.

“You should know by now that Lucius drove his family into ruin. The Malfoy name doesn’t mean anything anymore and neither does _Winters_ ,” he said through his teeth, an inch from her from her face.

“Then take me to Snape. Draco needs to know that I’m here—!” Valeria spat. Dolohov laughed.

“I don’t owe your spineless little shit of a husband any favors, _Mrs. Malfoy_. Not after what he did to me,” he said. Valeria remembered how out of sorts Draco was after torturing Dolohov and Rowle.

“He did as the Dark Lord asked, which can’t be said for you seeing as how you failed to capture Potter,” Valeria said with searing disdain. Even in the darkness, Valeria could make out Dolohov’s face contorting with rage

“You little—” he began as, with speed, he struck her across the face with his free hand, still holding his wand. She let out an involuntary yelp of pain but felt Dolohov’s grip on her arm loosen only just. Seizing the opportunity to flee, she yanked herself out of his grip as she stumbled out of the inertia of the strike and fumbled backward on her feet. She drew her wand, ignoring the brief stinging on her face which felt rather mild after all she endured.

He too had aimed his wand and quickly began flinging curses at her, but thanks to the ward on her wrist, they only managed to knock her to the ground, rather than completely incapacitate her. She feigned unconsciousness for a moment as Dolohov marched over to her. Once he was reaching down, about to lift her again, she moved with deft precision and hexed him, sending his unconscious body back and to the ground with a dull thud.

She took a moment to catch her breath and make sure Dolohov was truly out before clumsily getting to her feet in the dark. She looked to Hogsmeade, still on the outskirts. There was no way she alone could manage to get by the Death Eaters in the village, the dementors stalking the grounds from above, nor through the guarded front doors. Still, she knew Hogsmeade was her only chance to find a way to get to Draco. She took off at a sprint.

Draco was walking through the cold, dim dungeon corridors, heading back to the Slytherin common room after completing a long, lazy patrol to clear his head. He was almost to the Potions classroom when he heard panting and trotting enter the corridor from behind. He turned on his heel and drew his wand, only to lower it when he saw Professor Slughorn struggling to run toward him. Though puzzled by the sight, he chose not to question.

“Evening, Professor,” Draco greeted tersely before turning around toward his destination once more. He was jolted into high alert when Slughorn caught up to him and grabbed him firmly by the shoulder and pulled him sideways.

“Quick, Malfoy, in here,” Slughorn whispered through his tired breath as he led Draco into Potions classroom, nudging him forward to close the door. Draco confusedly watched as Slughorn cast a litany of protective charms over the door.

“What’s this about?!” Draco demanded. Slughorn finished and rushed to him.

“It’s only just happened. Let me explain—”

“Out with it then!” Draco ordered impatiently.

“I’ve just gotten out of a staff meeting with the Headmaster—well, only some of the staff, the ones they trust. Something’s happened in Hogsmeade. They think Potter’s here,” Slughorn said urgently, glancing back to the door in his paranoia. Draco scowled, aggravated that he too hadn’t been summoned as he was a marked Death Eater, even if the others didn’t take him seriously. That was shattering information, if it was true. Draco doubted that even Potter would be stupid enough to get near Hogwarts, especially after his exploits at Gringotts.

“It’s probably another false alarm—” Draco said, aggravated with this sudden and wholly unnecessary meeting.

“ _Listen_! Amycus said—I don’t think he meant to in front of me, but he was all out of sorts—that Miss Win—Valeria was spotted in Hogsmeade,” Slughorn said quickly. Draco’s face fell as his annoyance left him.

“T…That’s not—”

“It _is_. One of the others apparently confirmed it was her!” Slughorn said, desperately trying to get through to Draco.

“Why wasn’t I called!? Where is she now!?” Draco asked aggressively.

“I can’t answer either question. That’s all I heard—” Slughorn was interrupted by Draco suddenly going for the door. “Where are you going?”

“I have to talk to Snape. Is he still in his office?”

“He’s got more on his plate if Potter is truly here,” Slughorn said, choosing his words carefully.

“Then what would you have me do?! Twiddle my goddamn thumbs while she’s _somewhere_ out there? I can’t let them—If they take her to Mal—You don’t understand. I’m going,” Draco said, mind wild with panicked determination.

“Malfoy, if Potter’s here, you can’t run off. They probably won’t even let you out—”

“I’ll find a way!”

“No, you won’t,” Slughorn tried to warn.

“I told her not to come back! I can’t leave her!” Draco shouted, losing himself for a moment. Slughorn tilted his head at Draco’s outburst and the latter went white upon realizing what he said.

“Malfoy, is there something…Did you…?” Slughorn asked calmly, curiously. Draco approached Slughorn, trying to intimidate him to the best of his ability.

“This conversation _never_ happened. You’ll say _nothing_ ,” Draco threatened.

“Of course not,” Slughorn said, knowing that this conversation was equally harmful to them both. “You need to understand that if Potter is here, if things go poorly, you need to be here to attend to your own... _duties_ that are asked of you, if you take my meaning, for your own sake. For her sake.”

“What does that—?”

“You will be no help to her if they think for a second you’re in any way disloyal. You know that better than I do,” Slughorn said. Draco stepped back, breathing heavily and about to burst at the seams, wanting nothing more than to defy Slughorn’s advice. But his professor’s words were starting to get to him, even as his heart pounded. There was no way out of the castle, even with a Dark Mark he would not be permitted out. The dementors spanned the entire grounds and were unavoidable. If any of his comrades suspected him of prioritizing his wife over capturing Potter, he was a dead man and Valeria would likely follow his fate soon after.

“Then what do I do?” Draco asked, dropping his arms at his sides in defeat after running his fingers through his hair. Slughorn took a step toward him.

“ _Wait_ ,” Slughorn said slowly. “You wait. If Potter’s here, I’m guessing you’ll be called, that’s when you take your chance. Bide your time and wait. Remember none of the other students can know anything for now.”

Even if Draco didn’t like it, as much as he hated to hear it and how pathetic it felt to be unable to act, he had to surrender to the fact that Slughorn was right. An understanding silence passed between them as Draco, downcast, nodded to Slughorn’s relief.

“Why are you telling me this? You never liked me,” Draco said quietly, but bluntly. Slughorn sighed.

“It’s complicated,” Slughorn stuttered in defense. “But I liked her. I don’t want to watch another student, all that potential, slip into darkness again. I made that mistake once and I made it again when I didn’t do more last year to help her, or you.” Draco nodded, looking down in guilt or shame, accepting the answer and swallowing his own bitterness before turning to go. “You promise you’ll wait.”

“I’m going to the common room. Where I’ll wait,” Draco said. They shared no other words as Draco departed, picking up his pace from earlier as he made for the Slytherin common room. Most other students within had either gone to bed or were keeping to themselves in small groups, but Draco was relieved to see Daphne still up, chatting with Pansy by the fireplace. Pansy saw him marching toward them first and looked down as she quickly made herself scarce. Her and Draco had not spoken once since their outburst shortly after Valeria’s disappearance.

Daphne sat up as she saw him. “You alright? You look—”

Draco leaned over the sofa to whisper to her. “She’s here.”

Valeria had her back pressed up against a building, panting, throat dry from trying to dodge Death Eaters and breathing in the crisp spring air. She kicked herself for being stupid enough to run back to Hogsmeade with no plan or prayer of escape. She should have gone home to Wales where at least no one could find her. But Draco…Draco was in Hogwarts and there was no way Potter’s presence would go unnoticed for long. According to Harry, the Dark Lord had his mind set on Hogwarts.

She ducked in between buildings, contemplating even somehow getting to the Black Lake and swimming closer to the castle, as stupid of an idea as that was. The dementors that had only just recently fled the village were sure to notice her soaking wet and running to the castle's entrance and once she got there, she didn’t trust the other Death Eaters not to drag her off again. She got lucky with Dolohov and wasn’t about to risk it again.

“Where’s Dolohov? He should have been back by now,” she heard, pressing herself flat up against a wall in the darkness.

“He took her that way,” replied another Death Eater. Valeria cursed under her breath once she was certain they were out of earshot. She was running out of time. Snaking her way as silently as she could through the darkened alleys and alcoves of the village she noticed one building with an upstairs light still on. The Hog’s Head. She snuck, walking sideways against the wall, slowly.

 _Homavidere_ , she thought, remembering one of the spells from her brother’s old Dark Arts books. She’d never tried it beyond practice, but if she managed it, it would reveal if anyone was hiding nearby. A faint, barely perceivable, light came from the tip of her wand and snaked its way through the air up the alley, never stopping, before returning back. It went into the tip of her wand and darkness fell again. No one was hiding, otherwise it would have lingered. Valeria needed to jump at her chance. She poked out her head, looking up and down the silent street, the Death Eaters off in the distance, she surmised, looking for Dolohov. She came out from behind the corner and rapped on the door. Light spilled out once more as it opened, and she immediately recognized the old barman who looked at her with disdain.

“Please, sir, I can explain. I won’t trouble you long I—” Valeria began, interrupted by the sound of distant shouting.

“Get in here now,” the barman ordered, and Valeria obeyed without hesitation.

“He mentioned you got separated,” the barman said in an exacerbated tone. “First Potter and now you…”

“They’re here?!” she asked, surprised and relieved they made it to safety, at least for now.

“They were. They’ve left. Not that that means anything to you.”

“I beg your pardon,” Valeria said.

“Beg my pardon all you like. I don’t know why Potter has you tagging along with him, but I think he’s stupid to put any faith in you—”

Valeria straightened up. “You know who I am then.”

“That I do—A Death Eater’s wife and yet still little more than a child,” the barman said, almost pitifully. “Tell me, why didn’t you run off when you had the chance?”

“I need to get into the castle,” Valeria said sternly.

The elderly barman let out a frustrated sigh. “And why’s that? Got a plan, do you?”

“I just want to see my husband,” she said.

“Of course you do,” the barman said with suspicion.

“Listen, I _helped_ Potter and his friends. I distracted the others and—”

“They said they dragged you off. How’d you—”

“I hexed Dolohov and they’ve probably found him by now. Please, sir, I don’t have much time so either help me get into the castle if you can or—” she said, trying to be polite, but growing impatient. He turned away from her and walked towards the stairs.

“If you hexed one of them, you can’t linger here. Come with me,” he said grumpily. She followed after him urgently, but without a word and they stopped before the portrait of a serene young girl. “Once more,” he said to the portrait. The girl in the painting turned and walked to the back of her own portrait as if she lived in three dimensions until she was out of sight in the frame’s painted distance. Valeria and the barman were silent as she kept her eyes on the painting, waiting anxiously for whatever was next to come. When the girl came into view on her trek back to her original place in the portrait, she had company. The figures grew larger and larger until the portrait swung open like a door, startling Valeria.

“The others here already, Ab?” Longbottom said as stepped out of the entrance, but his face fell when his gaze landed on Valeria. He pointed his wand, already in hand at her. Valeria drew her own, instinctively, in defense.

“What’re you—!” the barman said angrily.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Longbottom,” Valeria said through the palpable tension, now getting a good look at Neville, who was worse for wear. Even the last time she saw him after Draco assaulted him at Platform 9 ¾, he hadn’t looked so rough.

“Harry said you were taken,” Neville said, surprised to see her and looking her over. So Potter had managed to get into the castle too, she concluded by Longbottom’s confirmation. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Valeria was irate. “I am getting into the castle with or without your help. For both our sakes, let’s do this the easy way.”

Neville scoffed a little. “Sorry, Winters, but it shouldn’t surprise you that it’s a little difficult to trust you.

“Potter trusts me enough. If it’s good enough for him, then it should be plenty for you,” she said. Neville considered for a moment and lowered his wand, looking almost regretful.

“Well, I can’t say the others are going to be too happy about this…Let’s go,” Neville said. Valeria quickly thanked the disgruntled barman one last time before following Longbottom into the tunnel. “You walk ahead of me.” Valeria rolled her eyes but obeyed without further complaint. “Clever trick you did with that song on Potterwatch,” he said as they moved through the first parts of the tunnel. Valeria stopped and turned to face him. “Keep walking though.”

“You heard it?! Did Draco—”

“He did. I don’t know how he knew you’d try to reach him, but he did. Blackmailed me into helping him,” Longbottom said with some bitterness.

“Sounds like him,” Valeria nodded, ignoring Longbottom’s emotions on the matter and feeling a spark of hope as she walked. She’d managed to reach him, against all odds, and it, for this moment, elated her.

“What, uh, happened to your face?” Longbottom asked a bit brazenly.

“You’re not in a position to make comments on appearances, Longbottom,” Valeria snapped, considering he had just hit a sore spot of hers. She collected herself. “Our mutual friend, Bellatrix Lestrange.” The information rendered Longbottom silent for a bit.

“Why’d you come back?” Longbottom said.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Valeria said.

“Malfoy seemed to think that you wouldn’t, or at least, it wouldn’t be a good idea if you did. And you’re the one barging in on us so I think it’s my right to ask a few simple questions,” Longbottom asserted. Valeria didn’t pry after what Draco had told Longbottom, but it didn’t surprise her. His message in the paper, _Don’t come back_ , had been clear enough.

“It’s complicated,” she said, unwilling to elaborate further already worrying if Draco would be upset with her for returning.

Neville sighed in frustration. “How, why, did Harry even take you with them? It doesn’t make a lot of sense—”

Valeria smirked in the darkness. “After I nearly killed Bellatrix when they showed up Malfoy Manor it wasn’t wise to stick around. Wasn’t my idea, or Potter’s for that matter. Draco’s the one that sent me off with them.”

“What?” Longbottom asked, stunned.

“Ask them yourself if you don’t believe me, but that’s the way of it,” Valeria insisted. Longbottom laughed a little, and she could sense that her unguilty confession had soothed, if not entertained him some.

“For what it’s worth, at this point I’d have paid good money to see you have a go at Lestrange,” Neville said.

“At this point, I’d do it again for free,” Valeria said, half joking. They approached the end of the tunnel shortly after and Neville stepped around her, insisting it’d be better if he went first. “Where’re we going to pop out?”

“Where else? The Room of Requirement,” Longbottom said. Valeria was quiet as she realized that it was in that room that the disappearing students were hiding during her time at Hogwarts. She kicked herself for being too distracted to have thought of it herself but was relieved that they wouldn’t be entering a more dangerous part of the castle. Neville shoved the door, the back of a portrait it seemed, open and stepped out. “Everyone stay calm!”

Valeria was anxious now, but her determination had yet to falter. She followed Longbottom out into the light and was met with a variety of stares, some blank and others seething at the sight of her. Predictably, many of the students raised their wands at her as the murmurs grew to angry shouts. Valeria stayed put and did not draw her own wand. Hermione rushed between them, facing her angry comrades.

“Stop! She came with us, like we said!” she shouted.

“I don’t care if she came with the damn Queen! Do you _understand_ what she’s done?!” Finnigan cried out. “She’s the one who got Corner tortured and she nearly killed Ginny!”

It stung to have that brought it up, though Valeria knew it was neither unexpected nor undeserved. Harry stepped forward, taking a stand beside Hermione. She caught his gaze for a moment, a bit of anger in his eyes at being reminded of Valeria’s assault of Ginny Weasley.

“She also helped us at Malfoy Manor, Gringotts and just now in Hogsmeade,” Harry insisted.

“We can’t trust her, Harry!” Ernie Macmillan said.

“I’m not asking you to trust her, I’m just asking you not to hurt her,” Harry said. They murmured again.

“Why is she even here? She’s a threat to all of us!” Finnigan demanded.

“Because she’s involved in this. That’s all I can tell you,” Harry said, keeping his secrets on the horcruxes close.

“So, she’s on our side then?” Goldstein pointedly asked.

“For our purposes, yes,” Hermione said, puzzling the others at the odd answer.

“I want to hear it from her, and I want the truth,” Finnigan said. Valeria took a slow step forward, still behind Harry and Hermione.

“I’m here to get myself,” Valeria paused, knowing this wouldn’t go over well. “…And Draco out of this. Out of all of this.” She was met with a small uproar from many of the loudest voices of the group.

“See! She’s still one of them!” Goldstein said. Longbottom then joined Harry and Hermione.

“Malfoy’s the one who sent her with Harry, isn’t that right, Harry?” Longbottom said, shocking Valeria at his coming to her defense.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Harry confirmed.

“And she told me she nearly snuffed out Bellatrix Lestrange,” Longbottom said.

“That’s right. We all saw it,” Ron said, joining his friends further off to the side.

“That true, _Mrs. Malfoy_?” Finnigan asked in a slightly mocking tone. Valeria pointed to the long scar across her entire face.

“Shortly after she gave me this,” Valeria said. Without any objection from her defenders, the opposing group considered, some murmuring amongst themselves. Terry Boot stepped forward, his arms crossed.

“Listen, we all saw it. You all saw how unhappy she was about all this, at least when it came to her,” Boot said. He turned to look at Valeria. “I can’t say I trust you, but I trust Harry.”

Valeria was surprised that Boot spoke up for her at all. They had hardly interacted since their small altercation at the beginning of the schoolyear and she knew that he was friends with Corner. He gave her a sympathetic look and she nodded in grateful acknowledgement in return. That seemed to calm the group for the moment, but it wasn’t long before Luna and Dean came into the room through the tunnel. Valeria stepped off to the side, trying to stay out of the way as the reunions happened. She was a bit bitter at how happy they all were to be united again, knowing that her hopeful reunion with Draco would be less blithe. Valeria continued to stay silent, taking in the room, as they went back and forth with Potter and his friends about their purpose for returning. The rebellious students had a fully functioning compound here, decorated with house colors and banners, only Slytherin was notably absent.

Valeria was jolted from her thoughts as she turned to see Ginny, Fred and George Weasley coming through the tunnel’s door. The happy reunion they expected was cut short at the sight of her. Ginny was the first to arm herself followed by her twin brothers. Valeria did not react, nor did she cower.

“What is _she_ doing here?!” Ginny shouted bitterly.

“She’s with us, Gin, she’s not going to hur—”

“Do you know what she did to me?!” Ginny cried, unconvinced.

“I do,” Ron said low, still rightfully angry himself. “But she’s been helping us for now and—”

“She’s a liar!” Ginny insisted. “She joined us and then ran—”

“Ginny,” Hermione said, stepping between Weasley and Valeria. “She didn’t remember.”

“She tell you that too?” Ginny asked.

“When the Death Eaters captured her, Snape erased some of her memories and we only restored them recently. I’m not…condoning what she’s done, but—” Hermione tried to explain.

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know!” Valeria blurted out. “Probably for my own good considering the next thing they did was marry me off.”

“Ginny, we don’t have time for this right now. Please,” Harry said urgently, albeit with great sympathy. Ginny considered.

“I want eyes on her at all times. She stays here and—”

“No deal,” Valeria said darkly.

“You either fight with us or you’re staying right here!” Ginny demanded.

“I don’t follow your orders, Weasley! I’m not here to fight. I don’t care about overthrowing Snape and the Carrows. I’m here to get Draco and get out,” Valeria said, quickly losing patience.

“See!? She hasn’t changed!” Ginny said.

“No one is fighting!” Harry shouted. “Both of you stop. Valeria, and the rest of you will stay here for now.”

Valeria was about to argue back, how she was not here to stay locked up in the Room of Requirement, but Harry moved on to discussing his mission in vague terms with the others, especially those in Ravenclaw. She stepped back to the side, scanning the room for a way out. She had not anticipated that they would not allow her to get into the castle, not that she had a plan for what she would do once she did. When Harry reluctantly decided to allow Luna to guide him to Ravenclaw tower, Valeria rushed to him and grabbed his arm before he put the cloak over them.

“Potter, if you see him…” Valeria started, not knowing how to complete her own request. Harry looked at her, wild with anxiety, knowing he was running out of time, but he wore a sympathetic expression.

“If this goes…If he fights us, I won’t be able to help or protect him,” he confessed without guilt, as it was obvious to the both of them that Draco Malfoy was the least of his priorities.

“He won’t need your protection. He’ll have mine,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the abundance of comments and kudos, and all the support in general. I'm looking forward to where this is heading and I hope this thing can continue to meet your expectations. Stay well, stay safe.


	35. The Strength of Mercy

_"Did we ever make the right choice?" he asked with an amused scoff._

_She shrugged. "We're alive, aren't we?"_

*****

The stress of the circumstances transformed the minutes to hours as she and her peers awaited Potter’s return. Ron and Hermione darted off on a mission of their own, but from how Valeria was being monitored like a hawk by the suspicious lot around her, she didn’t think she’d be able to sneak out. She paced in the little area of the room she occupied which separated her somewhat from the others, wringing her hands. Other recognizable faces began coming in through The Hog’s Head, eagerly awaiting news or guidance on what to do next. Molly and Arthur Weasley spoke quietly with Ginny, looking back at her every so often with angry, disapproving glances. Bill came over to them to calm his family, which worked for now, but Molly in particular was fuming to see Valeria.

Chaos broke out when Potter and Lovegood returned as the former was overwhelmed by everyone’s questions and the additional people who had arrived to support him during his absence. Valeria wanted to rush him too, ask if he had seen or heard anything about Draco, but wisely chose to observe from further off. Unlike the others, her heart sank to hear that Hogwarts was going to stand against the Dark Lord. Her ill-formed idea to get to Draco and get out was thoroughly snuffed out; If they were going to escape, they’d have to fight their way out. Exactly which side they’d be fighting against worried her the most.

What was certain was that she would need to get out of this room. Draco was not going to evacuate with the others, as a branded Death Eater, it would have been suicide the moment any of his comrades, save his father, discovered his flight. He would remain.

The happy reunions, odd at a time such as this, filled Valeria with envy and only strengthened her determination to find Draco, ignoring the talk and arguments around her. Many of the others, those ready and old enough to fight, began to file out for the Great Hall. Seeing her chance, Valeria took a few steps forward.

“Not you!” Ginny shouted and Valeria turned and gave her a nasty glare. “We can’t trust you!”

“You are not my jailor,” Valeria spat. The disdain between the two young women was mutual.

“Valeria, just stay here and help people evacuate,” Harry said urgently, not up for yet another argument about this. Valeria turned on him.

“I made quite clear my reasons for being here, Potter,” she said.

“Valeria,” Lupin said, stepping forward, moving between Valeria and Ginny. “Perhaps it’s for the best, just for now.”

“How much more do I need to prove? You won’t trust me, you never have, any of you, so why the hell should I bother? Why should I tell you that Bellatrix cut my face because I wouldn’t hand Potter over, or what I did at Gringotts or just now how I handed myself over to Dolohov, who nearly dropped me in Lestrange’s lap, so _they_ wouldn’t get caught! I don’t want to fight you, but I won’t let any of you stand in my way either!” she ranted desperately.

“You’re still valuable to them if they tried to take you off,” Lupin reasoned. “You’re safer in here for the mome—”

“Are they in the castle yet!?” Valeria argued. Lupin stepped forward and spoke low.

“Prove to them that you’re worthy of their trust, by staying here, just for now. Once this all breaks, well…Then you can make your choice, once and for all,” Lupin said. Valeria looked at Potter who nodded at her urgently to stay put. She had a lot of choice words to stay, but in her anger she could not give them articulate breath. Valeria knew they were not about to let her out of this room so she huffed, returned to her place off to the side and waited.

“Are you sure she’s here?” Daphne whispered, walking alongside Draco to the Great Hall. Draco looked up to see Valeria’s banner with the other Fallen Heroes and clenched his jaw.

“Slughorn wouldn’t have told me if he weren’t absolutely certain,” he said. Like all the others, he listened to McGonagall’s words with bated breath and was a tad frightened that Snape was gone and the Carrows were nowhere to be found. He had no one to ask after Valeria, to ask what the other Death Eaters knew. His gaze drifted to the Gryffindor door table, where he saw Potter making his way up the hall and Draco tensed. Valeria had been with him mere hours ago at the Gringotts break-in, so where was she now? His only hope was that she managed to get away from him and go far away from here, but his gut told him this was unlikely.

He had handed Valeria over to Potter in a desperate act to keep her alive, if only to buy her time to get to safety. In a sense, he had inadvertently and with great suspicion, entrusted Potter to keep her safe, though that was not what he asked of the latter at the time. He had banked on Potter’s obnoxious and shameful need to play the hero would have counted in Valeria’s favor. He directed all his bitterness onto Potter as he watched him now.

_“I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and they shall not be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight.”_

A chill went down Draco’s spine at the sound of the booming, disembodied voice that he knew all too well. He could feel the fear radiating from many of his Slytherin peers beside him too. The time was now, and Draco was not ready. He never would be.

“But he's there! Potter's there. Someone, grab him!” Pansy said, rising from her seat. Draco looked up at her and saw that she was trembling with terror, nearly in tears. Draco felt the same, but the Dark Lords words seemed to play over and over in his head. As the other houses stood to point their wands at them, Draco was unphased. As if hexing the Slytherins to protect Potter would matter in comparison to what they were about to go up against. People were going to die tonight, he knew. The Dark Lord was right; There was no hope in fending him and the Death Eaters off forever.

 _Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded…_ Draco recalled those words and was struck with an idea, a desperate and foolhardy one, but it was the only one he had. If he were to hand over Harry Potter to the Dark Lord, he could save Valeria’s life. He could regain all the respect his once great surname had demanded. He would be trading the last hope of a different life he had, but that was the price he would have to pay.

The Slytherins did not hesitate to leave the Great Hall when McGonagall dismissed them and Draco followed them out too. Daphne grabbed his arm as the area filled with students being led to safety. She was not confused anymore, only petrified with fear.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I have to stay,” he said.

“Are you mad?!” she said, gripping him harder. “Who knows what will happen when he comes and—”

“I know, Greengrass, but I don’t have a choice. You go, get the others out.”

Draco pulled himself gently from Daphne’s grasp and moved through the crowd, spotting his two huge, lumbering friends who looked the most excited for the turn of events. He put his hand roughly on each of their shoulders.

“We have to catch Potter,” he told them.

“You good?” Ginny asked with terse, obligatory concern. It was only at the question did Valeria realize how she must have looked as she reacted to the Dark Lord’s voice. Her hands trembled, her chest moved rapidly as she breathed shallowly, and unbeknownst to her, her face was white as freshly laundered linen. “You ever seen him?”

Valeria, covering her own mouth with her hand in an effort to steady her panic, nodded. Ginny took a tentative step toward Valeria who backed away like a frightened prey animal. She was immobilized by her own fear at the sound of his voice and when she blinked, she saw flashes of him back at Malfoy Manor the night he bade her to torture Jane Masters before murdering the woman himself. Valeria did not know how much longer she could last in a world under his rule.

“You don’t have to go back to him, to Malfoy. Why would you?” Ginny asked, with some degree of spite.

Valeria, still reeling from the Dark Lord’s ominous announcement, wanted to turn on the Weasley girl and yell until the former was blue in the face. Valeria had learned, all too young and soon, that the world was cold, it was merciless. Valeria no longer truly believed the world was worth saving, but Draco was. He was an arrogant, stubborn prick and perhaps a coward too, or at least he had been for the lion’s share of his own young life. The truth was that she was all those things too. Valeria wanted to tell Weasley this and force to her understand how she and Draco were two miserable, broken people who had been wrong at about so much for so long. But they were worth saving, if only to each other.

“I can’t save the world, Weasley, but maybe…Maybe I can save him,” Valeria responded quietly.

Ginny was quiet as more people came through, ready to help, most of whom Ginny didn’t seem to know, simply directing them to the door to the castle. Ginny was about to speak to Valeria again when the door to the corridor flew open and Valeria looked to see Millicent Bulstrode ordering the younger Slytherin students inside. Valeria, still at the edge of panic, realized the feelings the others must have felt at their own reunions earlier. Seeing the familiar faces of her Slytherin peers, soothed her. Ginny pointed them to the exit to The Hog’s Head while Valeria looked for Draco in the crowd filing into the room but was dismayed when no sign of white blond hair stuck out.

“Valeria!”

Valeria turned sharply. Daphne was rushing towards her and Valeria took off in an instinctive sprint towards her friend, the young women gripping each other with all their might as they embraced. Valeria could not help but break into tears and as they separated from the embrace, she saw Daphne was crying some too.

“What happened?” Daphne asked in shock, looking at Valeria’s face.

“…Lestrange,” Valeria said to Daphne’s horror. The latter obviously was not privy to that entire story, and there was seldom any time to explain now. “Where’s Draco?”

Before Daphne could speak, they were joined by Tracey, who similarly rushed Valeria, which the latter reciprocated. Blaise and Theodore Nott also made their way over at the sight of the commotion. The last was Pansy, who was pale and trembling in her nightwear.

“We can do this later; We have to go!” Pansy insisted.

“I’m not leaving without Draco!” Valeria said and turned back to Daphne. “Where is he?”

“He wouldn’t evacuate. He’s staying to fight,” Daphne said before quickly explaining what happened in the Great Hall. Valeria had already known that would be the case and kicked herself for holding out hope.

“If they’re not handing over Potter, we need to go!” Pansy said, more desperately this time.

“No! I’m staying,” Valeria said.

“Malfoy would want you to get out of here,” Tracey said.

“He’s gone off with Crabbe and Goyle. You don’t have to fight with them,” Blaise said. “You’re not going to try and fight _against_ them, are you?”

“No. I don’t know,” Valeria said, unsure and overwhelmed by the unknown all around her.

“I mean, you were just with Potter and—” Blaise said.

“Yeah, what was that? What happened?” Daphne asked.

“There’s no time!” Pansy shouted.

“I’m staying!” Valeria shouted at the top of her lungs. “I cannot, I will not, leave without Draco. You…you guys can stay too. It’ll be easier to find him with all of us. Then we can all find a way out and…” Valeria was rambling, desperate as students from other houses were going through the room to the exit.

“Are you mad?!” Pansy said.

“Just listen to me!” Valeria shouted again. “You’ve all seen it. Look at what they’ve done to me!” Valeria gestured to the scar on her face. Her friends were pensive, and she sighed. “We all know that almost none of us have enjoyed this. Any of it. And when he wins…It might not be long until the rest of you end up like me."

“What are you saying?” Nott asked.

“I don’t know, I just—”

“Valeria, there’s no way we can fight this, even if we wanted to,” Daphne said calmly. “I have to think about Astoria too and—”

“I don’t think the others are keen on having us around anyway. McGonagall practically threw us out. We’d just get caught in the crossfire,” Tracey said, nodding towards the students from the other houses making their exits.

“This is our school too! We have just as much of a right to stay as any of them!” Valeria said.

“We know the people on the other side, we can’t just fight against them…” Daphne said.

“Some of us have family out there,” Nott said.

“I’m not asking you to fight your families,” Valeria said with a sigh. “Just that if we stick together then—”

“We will stick together, outside! I’ve heard enough. You’re going mad, Valeria, and I’m leaving. I’m sorry…” Pansy said. There was a tone of regret in her voice, even in her panicked state.

“Pansy’s right for once. I don’t want to be mistaken for fighting against them,” Tracey said.

“I won’t hold it against you. I understand, I do,” Valeria said, remembering the Department of Mysteries and how she did not raise a wand against the Death Eaters, her family included. “But I have to stay. I’m too involved…”

“You don’t have to be. Let’s go,” Daphne insisted. Valeria hugged her dearest friend one more time, savoring the embrace, knowing full well it might be the last time.

“I have to find Draco. I’m sorry,” she said, before turning to go, seizing the chance when Ginny was distracted and taking off into the students who were making their way through the room.

“How are you going to that?!” Daphne called after her. Valeria turned to her friends one more time.

“By any means necessary,” she blurted out. She knew if she stayed a moment longer, looking at their frightened expressions, she would lose the strength to go. She turned on her heel and shoved her way by the other students, those who saw her scared or surprised to see her. She looked up and down the corridor, orienting herself, and made off at a sprint to the dungeons as the first sounds of war echoed through the halls.

If she had waited a few seconds longer, she would have found Draco right then and there.

Or rather, he would have spotted her as he hung back from the evacuating groups with Crabbe and Goyle after their brief rendezvous away from the crowds so Draco could tell them his plan. His friends, if he could still call them that, were disappointed not to be in the thick of the action yet, but Draco managed to convince them that the Dark Lord would reward them if they helped him capture Potter. He was careful not to reveal his true intentions to them and, as he predicted, the prospect of being in the Dark Lord’s eternal favor was more enticing then flinging a few Unforgivables at their enemies.

Draco waited with single-minded determination outside the Room of Requirement, disguised by the Disillusionment Charms he and his comrades had cast. He waited with bated breath, steeling his resolve for what he had to do. It was only because of Potter that Valeria still drew breath thanks to Draco’s rash decision at Malfoy Manor, and his stomach turned at the thought of handing Potter over to the Dark Lord. The sounds of impending doom and death were all around him as the walls shook from fierce duels and the Death Eaters’ efforts to invade the school. Such sounds were at least vaguely familiar, and he felt a lump in his throat with each shudder.

This was perhaps the difference between him and Potter in the end. Potter would never damn the world to save one. But for Draco, Valeria was the last thing he had to lose and he would rather let the world burn than lose her. At least, so he told himself as he waited and waited.

The rage of war was all around Valeria, but even as things grew more dire by the second, she had managed to sneak her away around largely unnoticed as she reached the dungeons. The dungeons were dark and quieter which was eerie rather than calming. She was grateful the password for the Slytherin common room had not changed since her absence and she rushed into the abandoned room. A deafening silence, save for the whooshing of the Black Lake, fell upon her along with the greenish tinge to the light.

“Draco!” She called out at the top of her lungs, hoping he’d be hiding out here, waiting for an opportune moment, biding his time. There was no response to her dismay. As school rules were forgotten now more than ever, she made her way up to the boys’ dormitories for the first time in her life. The beds were unmade, belongings tossed about how they would be on an average school evening. The had a ghostly energy, like a quickly vacated haunted house. She imagined it would be like this in the dormitories of other houses. How many students had fled their beds to fight and would not return?

“Draco!” she cried out again, a little more desperately. She went to his bed, recognizable by the monogrammed trunk by the foot of his bed. She rummaged around his bedside table, hoping with increasing desperation while knowing how futile it was, that perhaps he had left a note, a message or some kind of sign to tell her where he was. It was silly to think Draco would plan for this at all, and she found nothing of note in his drawer, save for an old wrinkled photograph tucked under miscellaneous belongings and school supplies.

She recognized it at once. He had shown it to her on the train sixth year. An image of herself, hastily cut from the posed photograph the Slytherins of her year stood for at the start of fifth year. The wrinkles, soft edges and creases made the picture seem at least a generation older than it truly was. The same picture he shoved in the faces of every shopkeeper in Diagon Alley when he asked after her the summer after the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. She was happy in it, smiling broad, her face clear and doll-like. She sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the girl she once was. The girl who loved the world, a different world, and died with it. She held back a few tears, overwhelmed by what she had lost and what she was likely to lose this very night.

“Winters…” she stood and turned sharply, drawing her wand, at the sound of her name, only to lower it when she saw Slughorn looking back at her.

“What are you doing here? The Slytherins have already evacuated,” she said.

“Making sure no one was left behind,” he said.

“Do you know where Draco is?”

“He knows you’re here. I told him as soon as I heard. I imagine he’s out looking for you now, judging by how he acted when I told him. But…I can’t be sure. The look he had when You-Know-Who demanded Potter be handed over made me nervous,” Slughorn said with forlorn sadness. Valeria was at the verge of breaking in her own frustration, the thought of Draco running about the castle looking for her scaring her to death. He would be impossible to find now. Perhaps he was already outside with the other Death Eaters, joining them somehow.

But then his words sunk in. It took a moment to realize Slughorn’s implication with horror as she realized; Draco was after Potter. Without a word she tried to push back Slughorn to leave the room, but he gently stopped her.

“There might still be time to get you out—” he started. Valeria was sick and tired of being ushered away into hiding. She was through with sitting idly by and pulled herself from Slughorn’s polite grasp.

“No,” was all she managed to say, before darting away.

"Winters!" he called, following her. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to find him," she insisted quickly.

"I can't stop you..." he said regretfully. "I want you to know that I'm sorry that I didn't do more to—"

"None of that matters now, sir," Valeria said, patience waning.

He nodded with a sad expression. "Godspeed to you."

"You too," she said, genuinely, before exiting the common room and leaving Slughorn where he stood.

“Where’s my wife, Potter?” Draco asked through his teeth after Potter laughed at him using his mother’s wand. Draco was furious at Potter for things he did not know to be true. He had charged Potter with Valeria’s safety, at least in his own mind, and Potter dragged her along on his suicidal plots and brought her to the least safe place in the wizarding world.

“So that’s why you three aren’t with Voldemort, should have known,” Harry said, stalling. “If I had to guess, I’d say she’s out looking for you, Malfoy. She had a lot to say about your miserable marriage, but she’s still almost as stupidly stubborn as you are.”

“Don’t talk about her like—” Draco said, fuming.

“She’s always been hard to figure out, even for you, right? One minute she nearly kills someone and the next she doesn’t hand me over to Voldemort when she had the chance. Neither did you, if I remember right. Why was that?” Harry said, prodding. Draco was furious that Harry for bringing this up in front of his comrades who weren’t stupid enough to overlook the comment.

“What’s he talking about?” Goyle asked.

“He’s stalling!” Draco said. “Don’t listen to him. Remember why we’re here.”

“And why would that be?” Harry asked.

“We’re gonna be rewarded. We ‘ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to ‘im,” Crabbe said as if it were his own plan.

“Good plan,” Harry said sarcastically. Draco had half a mind to make for the door and abandon Potter, whatever he was doing, with Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of Valeria being found before he did so terrified him, but this was his only chance to save her life. Draco’s heart dropped when he heard Potter’s friends calling out for him, but he had to regain control over an overeager Crabbe.

“Potter came in here to get it, so that must mean—” Draco said impatiently.

“‘Must mean’?” Crabbe said in mockery. “Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an’ your dad are finished and I’ll be rewarded! Maybe ‘e’ll give me a wife too.” A menacing grin formed on Crabbe’s bloated face. “Maybe ‘e’ll give me _yours_.”

Draco had been trying to stay calm, if only to defuse the situation enough to capture Potter as easily as possible. The calm left him as he saw red. There was little left in the world that could make Draco act with any ferocity, but when it came to her, he was helpless against instinct.

“I will kill you if you go near her—” Draco started earnestly, but Crabbe acted, and all chaos broke out. Draco lunged for Crabbe, shouting and ordering him to back down, but was thrown off by the size and strength of the latter. Goyle soon joined Crabbe even as Draco furiously forbade them.

They all stopped at the roaring sound of destruction and Draco’s heart was overtaken by fear realizing what Crabbe had done, even as the latter gloated. They had only recently learned about Fiendfyre and as astonishingly gifted as Crabbe was with destructive dark magic, there was no way he could ever dream to control it. Draco felt a rush of anger at Crabbe’s abandonment of both him and Goyle as the former stayed behind to try to drag Goyle’s unconscious body with him.

Potter and his friends were soon out of sight as Draco tediously lumbered along with Goyle. The heat and smoke were getting to him and he could barely breathe as he mustered all his strength to pull Goyle up onto the precarious tower of desks. He hacked, his lungs begging for clean air, as his throat felt singed more with each breath and he could feel his eyes tear up at the smoke. He clutched Goyle when he pulled him up as far as he could.

He closed his eyes to keep the smoke out and, once again, he saw Valeria. Rather than seeing his own life flash before him, he saw hers. His feeble attempts had been for naught and it was with painful regret that he truly understood the last time he’d ever see her was when he shoved her into Potter at Malfoy Manor. He was tormented as he saw her face full of fear, as it was then, and he pleaded with his own mind in these final dismal moments to see her as he loved her; To not be haunted by his regrets and sins.

The glint of mischief in her eyes as a child. The way she rolled her eyes and tilted her head when he acted in, as she would put it, _an unbecoming manner_. The porcelain face she meticulously maintained to stave off the imperfections he secretly held dear. When she laughed, mouth wide open and face beaming at the Yule Ball. A vision in white on their wedding day which he now pretended was happier than it was. The serene little smirk that graced her face almost always. Her teasing him. Her dancing around at the edge of the Black Lake, eyes to the sky and her body free. Her body in the late nights at Malfoy Manor, clumsily learning each other.

 _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._ He thought, over and over as the fire was set to engulf him, disintegrate him as if he never walked this earth. He was sorry for everything he did and had not done. For what he took from her and could not give in return.

He opened his eyes, squinting instinctively in the heat and smoke. He saw Potter on a broom and adrenaline rushed through him, survival instinct overwhelming hope. His sweaty palm slipped from Potter’s and Draco cried out desperately. Potter and his friends circled back, his friends taking Goyle and Draco climbing up behind Potter. The irony was lost on Draco while he gripped Potter and barked orders at him, head throbbing and heart racing. Draco thought all was lost once more when Harry dove for something Draco hadn’t spotted, his own eyes looking out for the exit.

He bellowed at Potter with all his might, as if his shouting would will the broom to fly faster. He screamed through the pain in his lungs and throat and only stopped when cool, by comparison, air cascaded over him like a harsh winter wind. It all happened too quickly and Draco coughed after he hit the floor face-down, the wind briefly knocked out of him and his head throbbing sharply from the rough landing. Dry heaving to nearly the point of vomiting, Draco shakily propped himself up. He looked to Potter.

“Crabbe…?” he asked through his coughing.

“He’s dead,” Weasley replied matter-of-factly. Draco’s stomach turned with mixed emotion. His former friend, last minute enemy, was gone, and he was at least a little relieved to see Goyle alive, though unconscious on the floor. Draco was jarred from his mournful thoughts as the sounds of battle broke through the air and the Headless Hunt rushed by them, and he had no strength to try and get out of their way. He managed to crawl to the wall, near Goyle, and fought through the coughing convulsion of his body to sit against the wall. He held his face up to the air, the rest of his body feeling heavy and limp. He hardly heard what Potter and his friends were saying, hardly noticed when they darted off, nor did he barely perceive the dueling further down the corridor. Wandless, strengthless and exhausted Draco thought only of Valeria.

Valeria had to take the long way back to the Room of Requirement. It was where Potter and those on his side had rendezvoused and was therefore the first place she was going to search for Draco. She hadn’t the slightest idea if her instinct was close to correct, but she was running out of hope and time. She kicked herself for having to go back, not having the information beforehand, but did not linger long on this as she avoided the duelers and destruction occurring all around her. She cast a few hexes and curses at figures who threatened to stand in her way, but kept moving, not knowing who she hexed or if she was even successful.

Valeria had stopped once, and only once to catch her breath. She was just outside the Great Hall and looked up at the banners of Fallen Heroes, some already in tatters. She was shocked to see her own face among them, beside her brother and was filled with anger at how her image was used to make her a martyr, when that was far from the truth.

 _Incendio_ , she thought, aiming her wand at her own banner and watching the flames eat it to embers from the bottom up, her own image engulfed in flames and rendered to ash. Beside the spot where her banner once hung was her own brother’s image. Wand still in hand, she recalled July 31st, when she had read Konstantin’s final message; A warning, a missive begging her to turn to the other side before it was too late. To not make his mistakes. To not succumb to the darkness that was her birthright, even only in honor of his brief life. It might have been already too late. Perhaps not.

She repeated the charm in her head and watched too as Konstantin’s portrait went up in furious flames. He would have spit at the sight, and even now she could imagine the guilty and disgusted expression he surely would have worn had he been there to see it. He was no martyr. The Winters were no martyrs. As the top of his head in the large image burned away, she whispered a barely audible _“I’m sorry”_ to her brother and found herself filled with renewed strength. She set off again, ready to fight her way to Draco tooth and nail if it was the last thing she’d ever do.

She made it to the corridor, and she heard the sounds of rageful dueling that stopped her in her tracks. She strengthened her resolve and against her instincts sprinted forward as fast as her exhausted, aching, limbs would allow her. As she drew nearer, she could hear over all else the sound of feeble hacking and panting. Her gaze darted to the wall, having been previously focused to look down the middle of the corridor, and her breath hitched to see disheveled white blond hair against the wall.

She stopped in her tracks and blinked, but only for a fraction of a moment.

“Draco!” she cried at the top of her lungs.

Draco continued to cough, feeling as though his lungs would erupt out his throat at any second. He started to turn his head at the sound of his name, instinctively recognizing the voice that cried out for him, but the wind was knocked out of him again before he could get a look. A body had clumsily collided with him on the hard-stone floor, embracing him and feebly, he reached back. He inhaled a familiar scent and felt the familiar hair texture on his sweaty palm.

She released him, taking his face in her small hands and that was when his eyes, feeling dry enough to be singed, met hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter one this time, sorry. Thank you all so much for all the love! It's so encouraging and I'm so flattered. Stay well, stay safe. These last few updates will take a longer to pump out as there's a lot of canon to work around AND I've going back and editing out all those pesky typos from other chapters/installments.


	36. Death Knell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence (magical and otherwise), Death.

_"I was with you at the end once. I'll be there again," she said._

_"I don't want to remember," he said._

_*****_

He stunk of sweat and smoke, and his face was almost as pale as death in her hands. He moved his mouth to speak, but there was a crash. It was the loudest Valeria had heard since the fighting began and the corridor filled with dust from destroyed stone, blowing over them, Draco instinctively and weakly trying to shield her body from the blast with his own. Valeria rose and pulled Draco up with all her might, which was difficult considering her exhaustion and their size difference.

“Goyle…” Draco said as he came to a shaky stand. Valeria looked over, only now noticing her peer’s slumped figure motionless on the ground.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

“No, but—” Draco started, but Valeria was pulling on his hand already, leading him away from the danger and he had no strength to argue, still coughing some as the dust irritated his lungs again.

“He’ll be ignored if he’s just there on the floor. We have to go!” she shouted. Draco was stumbling as he followed, trying to match her pace, but gripping her hand as tightly as he could. She pulled him into an abandoned classroom nearby and magically secured the door with every locking charm she could think of along with casting a silencing charm over it. She lowered her wand when finished and turned back to Draco, who was using the edge of a table to steady himself and catch his breath.

Before she could rush to him, now that there was a moment just for them, he stepped to her and before she could speak a word, he crashed his lips against hers. It was a desperate kiss, a furious one, something about it felt dreadfully final. He had his sweating hands tangled in her hair as he released the kiss.

Valeria’s heart broke, seeing the frightened threat of tears in his bloodshot eyes and she reached for him too as he tightened his grasp on her head. She felt a fire ignite in her heart, a mournful yearning, knowing now that he had managed to fill to completion a space in her heart she did not know existed.

“Why’d you come back?” he asked through his teeth, fighting back the onslaught of tears. “How could you be so stupid? I told you not to come back.”

“I swore I’d be at your side until the remainder of my days, didn’t I?” she said, tearing up too. His breath audibly hitched, and his lips quivered as he futilely fought the tears, pressing his forehead to hers. He pulled away to get a look at her and for the first time noticed the scar on her face. With a trembling hand, he gently traced his thumb across where the scar ended at her jaw. She looked down in shame as she realized what he was doing. “There’s no way to get rid of it. Not even glamour spells will cover it…”

He lifted her face. “I don’t care,” he whispered, looking sadly at her. She remembered the faint scars on his own torso that she had, bashfully, seen so often. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner…” He remembered with pain, once more, the night she slipped through his fingers at Malfoy Manor. No one had alerted him to what was happening in the drawing save for the likeness of Valeria, the one from the portrait painted over Christmas, slipping into another painting’s frame and saying, _“The drawing room”_ to him. The first and last time he ever heard either of their painted likenesses speak. In a way, she had saved herself. “I’m sorry I had to send you away.”

She shook her head. “I know why you did it. Potter told me what happened to you after…” she was tearing up again.

“How…?”

“Because of his scar, he has some kind of connection to the Dark Lord, I don’t really understand it. But he can sometimes see through the Dark Lord’s eyes, feel what he feels. Apparently, Potter saw what he did…” She said, unable to finish her sentence as she started to cry, but Draco brought her to his chest again.

“I’m glad I did it. I think,” Draco said softly, remembering too the pain that had been inflicted upon him as punishment. “Potter was supposed to take you away, for good. Why’d he drag you along with him?”

“He couldn’t leave me behind, I knew too much. I was too dangerous,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

She sighed and explained to him Potter’s plan. Surely it didn’t matter now, at the end of things, if Draco knew about the Horcruxes and Potter’s mission to destroy them. Draco didn’t even have a wand and was powerless to do anything and the Dark Lord already knew Potter was hunting his secrets. She explained too how Granger had asked about the Horcruxes and how she herself knew of them since summer, but her memories were altered or locked away by Snape the night she arrived at Malfoy Manor. She told him the Gringotts story, him recoiling at the thought of Valeria transforming into his own mother, and why they were there in the first place. Draco was stunned by all of it.

“Why would Snape do that?” he asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said. “Maybe he just didn’t want me to know about them at all…”

“The Dark Lord wouldn’t even tell Snape something like that and my father never knew, I’m sure of it. But why keep it a secret after wiping your memory? I don’t think he ever knew Potter’s been after those the entire time, and he would have wanted to know. If Snape would have let you tell the Dark Lord than we would have been much better off—” Draco rambled.

“It doesn’t matter now, Draco,” Valeria said.

“So that’s what that diadem thing in the Room of Requirement was all about,” Draco said. “He was looking for it in there and it seems he found it.”

The news surprised Valeria. She had figured the effort to find the long-lost artefact was futile. Draco then told her what happened in the Room of Requirement; How he nearly apprehended Potter, but Crabbe lost control and perished in the carnage, and how Potter had saved his and Goyle’s lives, as much as he hated admitting it. Valeria never liked Crabbe, but she felt some sympathy for his death. He was a peer after all, and he died horribly, even if it was by his own hand.

“Why did you even try to get him?” Valeria said.

“Because it was our only shot to save both our skins, Valeria. If I was the one to hand over Potter, we’d both be forgiven for everything. Now it’s over,” he said.

“It’s not over. We can find a way out of this—”

“I didn’t go out and join him when I had the chance, and you’ve _helped_ Potter and he _will_ find out. Our only hope is to hide until we have a chance to get out and never return. Otherwise, we’re both dead,” he said with fear and despair. “We’ll hide here for now and—”

“No!” she said, nearly shouting.

“What!? You can’t think…Valeria, do you really think Potter can manage to destroy all those…those things?! Do you really think he, any of us stand a chance?! We don’t have a bloody choice—!”

“I’m _tired_ of hiding. I am done with running,” Valeria said.

“Valeria—”

“No! Ever since all of this started, I’ve done nothing but run and hide, be bounced back and forth with no say in any of it! I can’t do it anymore.”

“So what’s your plan then?! Fight? Fight who?” Before Valeria could answer, there was another great crash outside the room and Draco grabbed onto her out of pure impulse. “We can’t stay here.” Valeria magically unlocked the door and grabbed Draco’s hand, both of them darting out back into the thick of it. “The common room, Valeria!”

He was right, it was the safest place for now. She didn’t want to run, but they only had one wand between them and were likely to overwhelmed by forces on either side. She had to choose her and Draco’s safety over valiance. Valeria, the only one with a wand, led the way while Draco turned his head left and right to look out for danger. They dodged curses and hexes, not taking the time to notice from which side of the war the spells came. Valeria cast hexes that shoved anyone in their path out of the way as they darted through dust and shaking ground to descend the stairs. They halted when they made it to the Entrance Hall, full of fighters dueling fiercely and scattered jewels symbolizing house points along with broken glass all over the floor.

It was more horrible than Valeria could imagine. She and Draco pressed themselves up against the wall, helplessly watching as bodies fell from the balcony with horrible thuds. A masked Death Eater turned at the sound and his mask landed on Valeria.

“Behind me!” she said to Draco as the Death Eater began to duel with her, and she dueled more fiercely than she had in her life. The ward certainly helped guard against her opponent’s spells, but she would have been impressed herself with how well she managed had she not been concentrating with cold determination. She was so focused on the duel that she had not noticed another masked Death Eater approach Draco behind her.

“We’re the Malfoys! I’m Draco, we’re on your side!” Draco shouted behind her, a rather futile thing to say given who Valeria was dueling with. Valeria felled her opponent, rendering him unconscious as he was blown back by her curse, and turned to Draco, only to see the other Death Eater collapse, stunned, and Draco shortly after knocked to the ground. She rushed to him as he sat up, bewildered with a bloody lip.

 _“And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!”_ Valeria heard, recognizing Weasley’s voice. She resisted the urge to curse in his direction, seeing no one and remembering the cloak, not wanting to give away their position despite her rage.

“Fuck you, Weasley!” she cursed in their direction helping Draco to his feet. No one among them seemed to notice what she said, fortunately. Valeria pulled Draco, darting through the fighters, Draco keeping his head down as they both clumsily stumbled over the scattered emeralds, trying to maintain a sprint. Valeria was knocked aside by a curse, broken glass digging into her hands as she tried to catch herself. Draco yanked her to her feet as the fighters screamed and the great wooden doors burst opened. They both turned to see the swarm of giant spiders and Valeria’s courage to stay and fight left her at once.

Draco grabbed her hand and pulled, taking the lead, and she winced as his hand forced the glass deeper into her skin. He led her down the stairs to the dungeon and others had the same idea, but either did not notice them or were far too concerned with the swarm of spiders. Draco pulled Valeria onward, deeper into the dungeons than the others would go. Though the immediate threats had lessened, Draco did not ease his pace until they alone reached the Slytherin common room.

He released Valeria’s hand once they were safe inside to catch their breath. Valeria healed her hand, watching as the glass was painfully pushed from her skin onto the floor. She healed Draco’s wounds once she finished, starting with his bloody lip and then to his palm which too had been cut by the glass in Valeria’s hand.

“We’ll be safe here for now. They aren’t going to think to attack down here,” he said. She felt guilty for having fled, but there was little she could do against the spider swarm. Perhaps Draco had been right about them biding their time and avoiding a fight as long as possible. “We need to think of a way out of the castle.”

“There’s no way out. They’re at the entrance and you said the Room of Requirement was destroyed and that’s how we got in to begin with—”

“Brooms, do you still have Konstantin’s in your dormitory? No, we’ll both take mine. We just need to get to a tower or a window or—”

“And fight our way back out again? There’re probably dozens of shielding spells all over the castle that’ll stop us from flying out! Even if there isn’t, we won’t go unnoticed!”

“We have to think of something!”

They weakly argued, if one could even call it an argument, back and forth for a while about how to get out, some way to come out of all this unscathed as the proverbial walls closed in with increasing speed. The both of them were quickly losing hope, losing options. They both stood frozen when, after the minutes crawled like hours, the Dark Lord’s voice rang out again.

_“You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”_

Valeria’s breath was shaking as she exhaled with fear and Draco paced, cursing under his breath.

“At least we have time,” Valeria said.

“One hour,” Draco said. “You’re right, we won’t get out without being seen and I can’t let you be caught, after everything you told me.”

“You could go…” she said weakly. He turned sharply to look at her, stunned by her words, and rushed to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You can go, join them again, they won’t hurt _you_ —”

“I told you how I didn’t join earlier when I had the chance and I lost Potter a second time, it’s too late for—”

“Not for you! He just said he’ll show you mercy,” she said. Above all, she wanted to see him safe from harm. That was why she came back to Hogwarts in the first place and would do again if she could go back in time. He gripped her arms and looked down at her, their exhausted bodies pressed up against each other.

“I’m not leaving you again. _Ever_ ,” he said in a low, dark tone. She was both dismayed and encouraged by his words, after all she wanted him to reach safety even if she could not join him. She rested her head on his chest as he embraced her, both perhaps accepting the inevitable in silence.

Death had been a looming presence in Valeria’s life for years now. She was no stranger to these primal fears and hovering dreads. But now, weak and powerless in Draco’s equally disheveled and defenseless arms, it all felt so final. All of her efforts, on both sides, were now costing hers and Draco’s lives. There was ever only one way in and one way out of life, both were violent, bloody and terrifying now. Their lives had begun together, as they had known each other since near their births and now they would end together. It was all they had now, as it had been for longer than either of them knew, to be with one another. Clinging and perhaps even mournfully crying some in fear and grief over their lives already lost.

After a time, neither measured how long it was, they parted. Valeria, knowing her death was imminent, scanned the room and landed on a student’s forgotten school bag set lazily on a chair. She dumped its contents onto the floor and slung it over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, rubbing his eyes.

“If I’m going to die, I want them to remember us for one decent thing,” she said. Fearfully, but determined to keep his promise, he followed her out of the common room and into the Potions classroom further down the dungeon. “Grab every healing potion, everything that might help, that you can find,” she told Draco as she quickly grabbed at the bottles on the shelves in the storage room. Draco listened and put what he found in the bag. “We’ll bring these up to the injured.”

“They’ll draw their wands as soon as they see us, see me,” Draco said, disliking this plan.

“They won’t, it’s a ceasefire and you’re unarmed. It’s either this or wait around to die,” she insisted. Draco didn’t argue, perhaps he didn’t want to. Defeated, he took the bag, heavy with full bottles and vials, from her to carry it himself. They made their way back up, hand in hand, Draco’s hand becoming clammier and trembling the closer they came. They stopped at the entrance of the Great Hall.

The dismal sight nearly brought Valeria to tears, even as she was sure she had become desensitized to such horror. The bodies were laid with dignity down the center of the hall while the wounded were scattered about. The sobering scent of death hung heavy in the air of the quiet hall. Her eyes landed on the Weasleys, all huddled around one of the corpses, weeping with Granger amongst them. Draco kept his head down, standing just behind his wife, unwilling and perhaps too ashamed to show his face. Granger glanced up, the first to notice them and slowly approached.

“I thought you would have been long gone by now,” Granger said, wiping tears from her puffy eyes. Valeria would have at a different time been insulted, but Granger’s tone didn’t imply malice.

“We were in the Slytherin common room. I thought we’d go get some things that might help while we down there. Show her, Draco,” Valeria said. Draco didn’t look at Granger, but weakly presented the bag, holding it open for Granger to see. “Elixirs, potions, I think we managed some Dittany too…”

Granger gave Valeria a quizzical sort of look. “I’m…Why are you giv—”

“Do you want them or not, Granger?” Valeria said with weak impatience.

“I—I can give them to Madam Pomfrey,” Granger said. Valeria nodded to Draco who silently handed the bag to Granger without looking at her. “Thanks,” Granger said in a sort of awkward surprise.

“Where’s Potter?” Valeria said, scanning the room.

“He’s taking care of something…I think,” Granger said. Valeria nodded.

“Right. Good luck,” Valeria said, not knowing what else to say before Granger walked away with the heavy, clanking bag over to Madam Pomfrey. Valeria lingered her gaze on the dead and injured for a moment, before feeling the pull of Draco’s hand on hers.

“We don’t belong in here,” he whispered. Valeria agreed with him, though she didn’t like to admit it. They went out into the Entrance Hall, the banners of Fallen Heroes gone or tattered to shreds and glass crunched under their shoes. Draco took a seat in a forlorn corner on a stair and she sat down on the lower one, leaning back a little on him while they rested in silence. His arms draped lazily around her, and he hunched over her in a shielding manner, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Clutching his hands in hers she hoped that just maybe she, and hopefully him too, would be remembered for that little act of kindness once they were gone.

They sat there for some time, not bothering to count down the hour the Dark Lord had given the denizens of Hogwarts. Shrouded with the Invisibility Cloak, Harry Potter stopped on the stair along his own heart-wrenching death march. He saw Valeria and Draco from behind, Draco’s body slumped over hers. Snape’s memories, which Harry had only just minutes ago witnessed, swirled in his mind at the sight of them.

_“I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me,” said Dumbledore.  
  
“The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed and he has discovered Draco’s…care for Valeria Winters and put Draco’s expected failure on her head too as a result, to motivate him. This is merely punishment for Lucius’s recent failures and those of the Winters, including, I suppose, Valeria’s failure to participate at the Department of Mysteries. Slow torture for Draco’s parents, Valeria’s mother too, while they watch him fail and pay the price,” Snape narrated.  
  
“In short, they both have had a death sentence pronounced upon them as surely as I have. Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?” _

_“Good,” Dumbledore began later in the conversation. “Now then. Your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as to himself. Offer him help and guidance, he ought to accept, he likes you.”  
  
“Much less since his father has lost favor. Draco blames me, he thinks I have usurped Lucius’s position,” Snape said. _

_“And Winters? She’s close with Draco, perhaps she can be an avenue to keep an eye on him,” Dumbledore suggested._

_“Given how she has hidden herself away from the world, I doubt she’s prepared to put her trust in anyone.”_

_“Even Draco?” Dumbledore asked. Snape sighed._

_“Draco will be sure to keep her close, I imagine. He was irate when she disappeared from the Ministry and came to me demanding answers. She’s intelligent, fairly capable given her age, but rather stubborn…”_

_“Yes, I see. I think it’s possible Draco will enlist her assistance, given how frightened he’s set to become. All the more reason to keep an eye on both of them. You’re sure she’s at the Leaky Cauldron?”_

_Snape nodded. “I believe she has yet to leave her room there. I’ve told Tom to alert you or I immediately when she acts. Perhaps we should intervene sooner, keep her away from Draco and—”_

_“No. Draco will only become more anxious and therefore dangerous. The girl is likely to need space right now, after what happened to Hieronymus and Konstantin, we’ll give her a bit more time. She needs to feel as though she has some control still. In that vein, do try to watch over them, gain their trusts, once they return to Hogwarts. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save them from Lord Voldemort's wrath.”_

Harry had half a mind to talk to Valeria, explain that she, even Draco too, need not feel much in the way of guilt with what occurred last year. Dumbledore had known long before she did and in fact helped orchestrate his own death. He too now understood the question that had been plaguing at his mind over Valeria’s formerly lost memories about the Horcruxes and choosing to change allegiances. Snape had altered her memories to protect her and kept the secret to protect himself. Harry wanted to tell her that too.

But he watched the two of them there and was too plagued by his own thoughts swirling around his inevitable death. Interrupting them by revealing himself would have robbed them of this small peace, as he saw it, that perhaps they deserved after all that had been done to them. Harry pitied them, truly. Knowing too that both of them would grow tense and unsure at his sudden appearance, he wanted to leave them like this. He had never seen this part of either of them. He had never seen Malfoy gentle nor Valeria vulnerable, not in this way. He envied them while he also pitied them, for he imagined himself and Ginny and would have given a great deal to have what they shared now with her in his final hour.

Taking a few moments to watch them, almost voyeuristically, now, Harry understood a little better Valeria’s insistence to go back to Draco. Harry’s feelings toward Malfoy were barely beyond indifference now, but this little glimpse along with Snape’s words showed him a glance at what Valeria had been unable to articulate. Finally, Harry realized what Draco had hours ago as he thought of Ginny. Unlike Harry, Draco would never give himself over for the sake of everyone, but he would for the sake of one. Unable and uninterested in reading Draco’s mind, Harry would not know that, as corny as it would have been to say aloud, Valeria was now Draco’s world and the only world, to him, worth saving.

Harry’s final task called to him and he knew he could not linger. He left them there in their uneasy serenity while Valeria struggled to keep her eyes open. She had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours, subsisting only on the pumpkin juice Hermione had given to her before they arrived in Hogsmeade. But she refused to spend what she ardently believed to be her last hours, perhaps less, asleep. She wanted to feel with the fullness of life what it was to be with Draco now. Though they had never been trapped with so much finality, she realized that they had never been so free together in so long.

Their path, marred by darkness, forced together by circumstances or deadly authority, had led them to lose. However, in a way, they had won. Designs outside their control had made them utterly dependent on each other and yet there was something real that had been fostered between them deep within each other. At the end of all things, they somehow managed to truly find one another. And there was no one else in the miserable state of the world she would rather live or die beside. She was ready. Valeria was ready to die with that knowledge rather than continue to live in the world that brought her naught but pain.

The hour had surely passed, and Valeria held Draco’s hands harder as she awaited the Dark Lord’s coming onslaught. Though ready, she was still frightened, and she could feel Draco’s pulse in his wrist quicken and his breath hasten even as he said nothing, knowing he felt the same fear.

The peace she had been relishing, the unspoken soft passion that they both had been savoring was shattered by the eruptive voice of the Dark Lord, booming all throughout.

_“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”_

Valeria turned to Draco as she felt her heart stop for a moment. She could have sworn she saw him for how he once was; Full of life, belonging, arrogant with the world at his feet. Back when dreams were worth cherishing. Disheveled, sweaty and his clothes singed, she still saw and felt the warmth of belonging in his arms as she had sometimes alone in Malfoy Manor and late nights in abandoned classrooms. Now that dreams were dead, hope slaughtered and all ending she still knew that she belonged there.

She half expected him to rise, to answer the Dark Lord’s call befitting the mark on his arm. She would have let him go without resentment, just as he once did for her. She wanted him to live, fully and beautifully and freely. She wanted him to die only after he had crushed every drop of happiness and all that was good, whether by gift or by force. If souls were real, if they were as magical and immortal as the philosophers said, and if what was left of her soul would flee her corporeal form for something indescribably beyond, then she would be the first to greet him when it came time for him to arrive too. And she would happily resign to spend eternity listening to his tales of a life well lived. If he could ever dream to achieve such a thing, for that was all she wanted now. She was unable to bear to think otherwise.

So she moved, only slightly and practically imperceivably, to let him up. To go out to his family that she knew he still dearly loved, albeit with mixed feelings. As she told him, she was too tired to run, too tired to flee a dark survival that was by no means guaranteed. She could not live in the shadows of others’ control. Either way, it would kill her. One way was just faster and on her terms.

But he didn’t move. He stayed rooted to his seat on the stone stair like a statue. He only brought her closer to his chest, dug his head tighter into the crook of her neck and shoulder and enveloped his arms around her closer. Valeria teared up, though careful not to reveal it, understanding his wordless choice, but she felt through her soiled clothes the wetness of his own soft tears on her shoulder.

Others began to poke their heads out of the Great Hall, white faced and full of hopeless despair and she recognized the feeling immediately; The same she had been feeling for years already but was relatively new to them. Neither she nor Draco moved, keeping their heads down, cherishing every borrowed moment they had together now. The triumphant cheers of the Death Eaters came closer from outside and Valeria looked up at Draco. He looked out toward the main entrance and with closed eyes, nodded. They helped each other up, Valeria trembling despite feeling surprisingly light of body and followed the crowd out beyond the protective walls of their childhood second home.

The Death Eaters beamed as Harry Potter lay dead at Voldemort’s feet. Valeria and Draco held each other’s hand tight, so tight as to nearing pain, but neither minded. They stood so close, side by side, pressed up against each other, reminding them that the other stood by still. Valeria teared up hearing McGonagall’s agonizing cry of grief at the sight. She trembled with each one of Potter’s loved ones’ howls of pain; Granger, Ron, Ginny…But the Dark Lord silenced them.

“Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!” Voldemort said in his victory.

Valeria and Draco turned to each other, unable to speak, but they could speak in a language beyond words that was theirs alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support and for sticking with me. I noticed this thing surpassed 2000 hits and I'd like to thank everyone again for clicking on this, even if you decided it wasn't for you or if you clicked it over and over too, ha! As we approach the end of this saga, I'd like to say that I have an idea for a "sequel" that wouldn't focus primarily on these two, but they would feature, so if you're into that stay tuned and/or let me know what you think of that, if you like. I've been a little slower to update as this part of canon is jam packed with stuff to work around and I've been editing earlier chapters and installments. I appreciate everyone overlooking those because, my god, some of them are so egregious.


	37. The Vengeance of Valeria Winters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magical violence, extreme life or death situations, graphic descriptions of violence.

_"We'll never be fully forgiven," he said, downcast._

_"Maybe we can be absolved," she replied._

_*****_

_“Light on your feet, Konstantin. Try again,” Hieronymus Winters ordered in the courtyard of the Winters’ little castle in Wales. It was a welcomed sunny day, the heat balanced by a crisp breeze that managed to reach them from above while surrounded by the castle’s four great, stone walls. It was the summer after Konstantin turned seventeen. Hieronymus had taken full advantage of his son’s legal entitlement to practice magic freely, having set up several magical targets for Konstantin to practice dueling, fearing the Hogwarts curriculum was lacking in the subject._

_Valeria, still over a year off from attending Hogwarts herself, sat beside her mother at an outdoor table and chairs wrought from iron, bored out of her mind. She had asked her parents to allow her to do anything else but watch her brother fling spells at lifeless targets, but Hieronymus insisted that she begin her own education by watching her brother._

_“You’re slouching, Valeria,” Odessa said, and Valeria immediately adjusted her posture, sitting up straight. Odessa applauded as Konstantin successfully cast a spell with great force. “Well done!”_

_“Can I take a rest?” Konstantin asked, catching his breath. The handsome young man was starting to look disheveled in his exhausted effort, even the cosmetic magic used to heighten his appearance could not hide it. Hieronymus, whose face never betrayed him, furrowed his brow at his son and heir._

_“And would your opponent let you rest? Again,” Hieronymus ordered. Disappointed, but knowing better than to argue, Konstantin obeyed._

_“Who would he even need to fight?” Valeria asked her mother._

_“You never know what can happen. A lot can change in a very short amount of time, as it so often does,” Odessa answered nonchalantly._

_“Will I ever have to duel like that?” Valeria asked._

_“It’s possible, but not to worry, we’ll be sure that you’re ready. Your father will train you too, once you’re of age,” Odessa said. Valeria ignored the more ominous aspects of her mother’s answer, being too young to fully take her meaning._

_“Father, please just let me sit for a minute—” Konstantin panted, but was interrupted by a jinx cast by Hieronymus, forcing Konstantin back to land on his rear. Valeria gasped, but Odessa did not react, maintaining a tranquil smile and poised posture. Hieronymus helped Konstantin off the ground, not far from the spot Konstantin would be buried in just a few short years._

_“A Winters never lets his guard down, son,” Hieronymus said. “A Winters finds a way to victory, no matter the opponent, no matter the obstacle. Quocumque Modo—”_

_“By any means necessary,” Konstantin said as he caught his breath. “I know.”_

_“Then behave like it,” Hieronymus said. “If you become too exhausted in a duel, there is one thing that you must always remember: When in doubt, aim for the throat.”_

That memory, in conjunction with many others, swirled in her mind. If only her proud father could see her now, his own daughter, the last of his line, unable to redeem the family name. A Winters, surrendering. But she was a Malfoy now, not that that truth eased her troubled thoughts. Odessa, vain and commanding respect wherever she went, had been sent far away ages ago. Odessa, as far as Valeria knew, was now a half-mad shell of herself, a perfectly made-up ghost of the subtly fearsome woman she once was.

But it was Konstantin she saw most clearly. The beloved, handsome boy was good at everything and everyone’s friend, for a time. The young man who was brave enough to love wrong, against his station, but too cowardly to act upon it. He who with his final words had warned Valeria against the very path she had been forcefully compelled to tread. The memory of him was half her strength now. She wondered if he would be proud, if his immortal soul was standing nearby, nodding with welcoming approval. For though he had tried to steer her from death, she was unable to answer his call until was too late.

The second half of her strength held her hand in his. Ill from fighting, ill from the war that they both knew would not end even with the death of Harry Potter, she knew she was ready to surrender. That life, even if it was with Draco, was one she did not wish to fight for.

They hung back behind the others during the grief and uproar of the mournful defeated against the Dark Lord. Voldemort silenced them all once more, declaring his victory once more, when his eyes landed on Draco and Valeria in the crowd. His lips contorted into a twisted smile as Valeria’s breath hitched. She would rather see him at his cruelest than his attempts at warmth.

“Ah, the young Malfoys. So that’s why you did not join us, Draco, I should have guessed. I am quite pleased to see you two reunited; Two glorious examples of the strength of pure unions, a legacy your children will be proud to carry on! Not to fear, Mrs. Malfoy, all will be forgiven on your part, cleared of any past…misunderstandings. Take your places with us now,” The Dark Lord coaxed with a mundane casualness that made her blood run cold.

Valeria was paralyzed, her heart clamoring against her ribcage. She could see Draco’s downcast face in the corner of her eye. They had kept their vows, to remain by each other’s side to the end of their days. They had kept the promise they made early in their sixth year to keep each other alive. Their duties were fulfilled, but she could not bear to make a choice for Draco. She had to now, when it mattered the most, give him the chance of life that he deserved in honor of what he had managed to do for her for far too long.

The Dark Lord’s promise of mercy was an empty one, she knew. Even if he honored his word, he was inherently merciless. There would come a time someday, eventually, where either she or Draco would commit some erroneous act, some failure, that he would not forgive. His word meant nothing to her, even as she knocked on the door of the eternal void.

“Come on, both of you,” the Dark Lord continued. “Your parents will be very happy to see you safe…”

Valeria swallowed and did not speak her farewells aloud for she would not be able to abide by them if she attempted to speak. One last choice, she would give Draco one final choice as her parting act. She squeezed his hand gently in her own sweaty grasp and then slowly began to release it, shutting her eyes tight and hardly able to breathe for as much as she trembled.

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him enough to release him of his responsibility, duty and love for her and was willing to pay his price without remorse or resentment. She could not see all eyes on them, on their choice, as her fingers slipped from his hand.

But, like jerking whilst falling asleep, Draco’s hand grasped at hers, tighter and stronger than before, a little gasp escaping her at the surprise of it. She looked up at him impulsively, tears in both their eyes and he shook his head at her.

“You will not join us? How disappointing,” Voldemort asked with a maliciously feigned surprise. “I’m ashamed to say that it seems I was wrong about you two and I so am deeply saddened to see such fine blood, such a fine match, go to waste for a dead cause. I thought it was clear to the both of you that if you did not act as good examples, then examples shall be out of you. Oh well.”

With a wave of his wand, Valeria wrenched the somber silence with her own screams. She knew the curse, the familiar pain of being stabbed, burned, flayed alive and torn apart from the inside out simultaneously. Even the many pains she had endured could not build a tolerance for this. She had hoped it would have been easy, quick, but she should have known the Dark Lord’s comfort with cruelty. She did not hear the shouting around her from all directions, nor did she feel the pain of her body helplessly collapsing hard onto the broken stone as she writhed uncontrollably.

The pain stopped, but the screaming recommenced and it was not hers.

She opened her eyes, panting, to see Draco above her, his arms trembling on each side of her in an attempt to keep from collapsing on top of her. He was screaming, blood curdling, in more pain than she had ever seen him, and his own tears fell without intention or control onto her face, streaming down the side of her cheek. She could hardly hear the shouting of others around her over his own cries and she reached up to him instinctively, but he could not be soothed. It was a worse sight than any pain the Dark Lord could inflict upon her and so she forcibly tried to shove him off of her, to take the curse meant for her once more, but he used to only resistance he had left to claw into the stone and keep himself firmly planted above her.

She called out his name, cried out for him too, unable to keep from impotently weeping as the last thing she wanted was for him to step in front of the curse in her place. He was only soothed when the curse lifted, and she felt his hot panting breath on her face. Trembling, he carefully got off her and with a shaking hand brought her to her feet too, while Voldemort laughed cruelly before them. Draco pulled her into him as tight as he could, his chin on the top of her head and Valeria got a glimpse of all eyes upon them, the faces of the crowd shocked and pitiful.

“I feared as much,” The Dark Lord said in regard to Draco stepping in front of the curse. “It seems you’ve had quite the effect on him, Mrs. Malfoy, though I intended for it to be the other way around. I fear I mistook the nature of your bond and I am sorry that I must now make clear to you the gravity of your disloyalty. I will allow you the kindness of saying your goodbyes to your husband, for he will be the first to die."

“No!” she screamed viscerally, so loud that her throat hurt. She heard the cries and shouts of his parents in their own futile struggle to reach their son. She wanted it over swiftly and quickly and she selfishly wanted to die first, as she originally figured would happen, so as not to witness Draco’s death. With all her strength, she moved to step between Voldemort and Draco, but Draco, stronger and surer, gripped her arms hard and held her in place, turning his back on his executioner. His eyes were full of panic as he brought his face less than an inch from hers and she struggled with all her might against his grip.

“Valeria, you have to promise me. Run. Valeria, when it’s done you need to find a way and run,” he said frantically.

She was blithering as she sobbed, shaking her head back and forth, for she would be unable to forgive herself if she obeyed him. “Not without you!”

“I need you to promise!”

“That wasn’t the deal!” she shouted. They agreed to die together, if they both had to die. She tried to kick at him in her futile struggle. She attempted to go for her wand in the pocket of her robes so she could hex him out of her way, if it came to that.

“Damn the deal!” he said through his teeth.

“I won’t run! I said I’d be there in the end—”

“This _is_ the end!” he shouted in her face, tears falling from his eyes. “It’s done. It’s over. I can’t protect you anymore which is why I need you to _run_!” Roughly, he took her face his hands, steadying it and forced her to look up at him, right into his eyes. She wept, sobbed, tears erupting from her eyes like a flood unstoppable.

“I love you, I love you, I love you—” was all she could manage to say through gasps and tears, over and over, gripping onto his hands which held her head still. He repeated her words back to her, a quiet duet of grief. He lost control of himself now too as he looked at her, heard her, sobbing hard and loud himself. When he no longer had the strength to speak, he crashed his lips onto hers. The crowd was in stunned silence around them, petrified as Draco awaited his execution.

But a short struggle, a blast and cry of pain forced Valeria and Draco to reluctantly break their final kiss. Voldemort cast a spell on them that made their feet feel glued to where they stood, but the rest of their bodies were free. Valeria looked over Draco’s shoulders and the latter, still holding his young wife fiercely to his chest, looked back.

Neville Longbottom, now disarmed, had challenged the Dark Lord. This came to great amusement of the Dark Lord and his followers, Bellatrix’s cackles most notable amongst them. Confused and mouth agape, Valeria could hardly make sense of what she saw and heard, she was shaking, still weeping, clutching Draco, her fingers clawing into his back. She buried her face in her chest at the sight of the Sorting Hat set aflame on Neville’s head and the sounds of his agonized screams filled the air as both hers and Draco’s had moments ago.

It all happened so fast and all at once that even years later Valeria could hardly recall in what order events occurred with any certainty.

Neville’s screams were joined by collective battle cries from a short distance off. All descended into chaos as a giant came around the castle wall, yelling a name Valeria could not make out clearly. The pounding of hooves and a rainfall of arrows both came, and the Death Eaters scattered out of the way. Valeria’s eyes darted to Neville and with a swiftness she never expected of him, he pulled a gleaming sword from the burning Sorting Hat and swung at Nagini, beheading the beast.

Valeria felt her feet break free and Draco looked at her, equally stunned. The scene plunged further into chaos as the ground shook and the winged creatures descended upon the Death Eaters. Defenders and Death Eaters alike began to stampede back into the castle. Without a word, Draco grabbed Valeria by the hand and yanked her away from the thick of it back inside. Draco wove through knife-wielding house elves slashing at Death Eaters in the Entrance Hall and Valeria protected them both from the curses that came from all around. He did not stop moving until they were pressed up against a far wall in the Great Hall while the battle continued to rage before them.

“Valeria!”

Valeria turned to see Daphne and Blaise darting for them, wands in hand and the two girls collided in a poorly timed embrace that nearly knocked them both over.

“I thought you went home!” Valeria shouted over the fighting.

“I got Astoria out. I couldn’t leave you both in here! Some others came back with Slughorn too, but I don’t know where they went!” Daphne cried desperately. Valeria looked up to Blaise a bit stunned to see him amongst the fighting force.

“Slytherins look out for our own,” Blaise said, looking to her and then to Draco. The three of them who had wands, with little else to lose and invigorated by the sudden second chance, dueled against the Death Eaters. Valeria looked up at the sound of a familiar cackle and a fire ignited within her as she turned to see Bellatrix Lestrange across the room dueling with Granger, Lovegood and Ginny Weasley.

_A Winters finds a way to victory, no matter the opponent._

_The Winters do not relent._

_By any means necessary._

She had felt such cold hatred before, back when she nearly succeeded in finishing off Bellatrix Lestrange in Malfoy Manor. The difference now was that she was stronger, fiercer and not the mad woman’s prisoner. Valeria moved swiftly toward the fight she wanted, but Draco’s hand on hers stopped her.

“Valeria, no!” he ordered desperately. Unsure of what to say and losing time, she gave him an apologetic look and pulled herself from his grip, but she felt as though he may have even relaxed his hand to release her. She darted across the room with surprising speed and surefootedness and shoved her way between the three other young women to stand between them and Lestrange.

“It’s me you want!” Valeria shouted.

“Quite the show, _Mrs. Malfoy_. How’s your makeover treating you?” Bellatrix mocked.

“How’s your throat feeling?” Valeria taunted in return as she cast a dark curse, to Bellatrix’s ire. Bellatrix managed to deflect it and cast a Killing Curse in return which Valeria barely managed to dodge and it went straight for Ginny, who barely missed it.

“Not my daughter, you bitch!”

Valeria turned quickly, thinking the insult was aimed at herself, wand still aimed at Lestrange, to see Molly Weasley of all people shoving the other young women aside and fiery eyes fixed on Bellatrix.

“Out of my way!” Molly commanded.

“I was here first!” Valeria argued as the fierce duel commenced, Bellatrix managing fairly well thanks to her renowned skill. She taunted Molly too, holding the death of the latter’s son over her head. Valeria recalled Konstantin’s book, a fact about a curse she knew well that she had previously glossed over,

 _In rare cases,_ Obfocia _, or the Strangulation Curse, can be cast with such power to crush the opponent’s throat at once, leading to near immediate death. The reason as to why this happens only rarely are unknown and there are few records of these occurrence. What literature does exist, however, seems to imply that a strong, vile hatred or other strong emotion is required to obtain this effect._

“Get back! Get back! She’s mine!” Molly cried out to Valeria and the other three girls.

“Not happening!” Valeria responded, continuing her onslaught of curses and it was Valeria that Bellatrix turned to taunt once again.

“Did Little Mrs. Malfoy, finally pick a side? A bit too late, don't you think?” Bellatrix mocked in a childish tone. “That was always the problem with your family, you could never be trusted, and you’ll pay the price the same as them! Even as a Malfoy, you still haven’t learned!” Valeria dodged another curse.

The Dark Lord’s words at their first meeting months ago rang out in her memory: “ _You desire vengeance…You shall have your vengeance in time…”_

Then her brother’s words from a lifetime ago: _“By any means necessary, Valeria. By any means necessary._

Finally, she heard her father’s ghostly voice in her mind: _“When in doubt, aim for the throat.”_

Valeria stood strong and resolute, cold and calculating. The last of her family. A Slytherin through and through. She adjusted the grip on her wand as Bellatrix and Molly exchanged words and the former turned on Valeria again. But Valeria spoke before her.

“My _name_ is Winters,” Valeria said with coldblooded calm. “And we play both sides.” Bellatrix eyed her with a murderous scowl, baring her teeth, and Valeria aimed the tip of her wand squarely at the woman’s throat. _“OBFOCIA!”_

The curse flew from the tip of her wand with enough force to stagger Valeria backward a step and landed with a distinct bang on Bellatrix’s throat while Molly Weasley’s spell hit Bellatrix squarely in the center of her chest simultaneously. Valeria smirked, the same little smirk that had once been her default facial expression as Bellatrix, in her final moments of life, knew exactly what had occurred. Bellatrix fell unceremoniously with a thud.

In the fraction of a second that followed, Molly and Valeria exchanged a knowing look. The seed of a tense, but present, mutual respect passed between them, though Valeria was disappointed she would not be able to lay sole claim for Bellatrix’s demise. Perhaps that was for the best. She turned around again, searching for Draco in the crowd. But she had to duck down as Voldemort’s fury erupted and sent a blast through the hall, shoving his own opponents backward.

“Protego!”

Valeria whipped around as she got to her feet to see none other than Harry Potter standing before Voldemort in the center of the room. The cheers of relieved surprise did not last but a moment as silence fell over the room. Valeria took her chance, to slowly weave through the crowd of onlookers to find Draco. She found him against the wall and with an expression just as shocked as everyone else. He pulled her to him with an anxious sort of aggression and gripped her left arm tight. While her wand was lowered, she still held it with an iron grip as she and Draco watched in anticipatory awe.

Potter’s words made little sense to her then, drowned out by her own fears that her and Draco’s narrow escape from death bought them only minutes of life. It had to be Potter to end this and it had to be now or else both hers and Draco’s lives were forfeit. The revelation about Snape’s allegiances troubled and confused her, saddened by the news of his death despite it all. Perhaps his carefully concealed disloyalty to the Dark Lord was the very reason Snape altered her memories all those months ago? Had he been trying to help her as such from the start?

It was too much to parse out logically now, for Draco’s grasp tightened as his body trembled and jerked a little at the sound of his name.

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy,” Potter announced to Voldemort and Valeria turned her head sharply to Draco who did not tear his gaze away from the unfolding scene, though his visage was just as pale with an equally shocked expression as hers.

“…and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy...” Voldemort said, and Valeria instinctively stepped a little in front of Draco.

“But you're too late. You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him,” Harry said, gesturing with Draco’s wand in hand. Malfoy Manor…when Potter had stolen Draco’s wand from his grasp moments before Draco, defenseless, sent her away by force.

There was no time to ruminate on the revelations when a bang rang through the hall as Potter’s spell collided with Voldemort’s. Valeria watched, chest so tight that it was hard to breathe as the Dark Lord’s wand flew from his hand and spun in the air, only to be caught by Potter himself. It all happened so fast and there was pregnant silence as the Dark Lord fell with an unceremonious thud to the ground. Dead.

The uproar of cheers and cries was so deafening that Valeria instinctively moved to recoil, fearing another surge of danger, but no threat came. The defenders of Hogwarts cheered, swarming Potter and he was soon out of sight, swallowed by grateful crowd. Neither Valeria nor Draco cheered, nor made a sound in their stunned disbelief. Valeria merely turned and wrapped her arms around Draco, who returned the embrace in an instant.

For neither needed to celebrate. Neither had any desire to loudly express their own confused relief. Neither had yet to fully comprehend it was over after it all seemed so endless, save for the promise of certain death. Neither understood now what freedom meant and neither could savor it. But they could hold each other, still bound by law and heart inseparable. That was enough. That was all.

They were jarred after a while as the older fighters of renown quickly made plans for the immediate future; Releasing the innocent of Azkaban, reforming an interim Ministry of Magic and the Death Eaters who had stood by had already fled or were otherwise captured. Draco and Valeria sat slumped against the wall, Valeria sitting between Draco’s spread legs with her back against his chest. Neither had words, only touch for now.

“Draco!”

Both of them stirred from their quiet respite to see Lucius and Narcissa darting to them, both equally disheveled and coming undone in their panic. Draco and Valeria clumsily and reluctantly got to their feet while his parents rushed them, Narcissa weeping and Lucius too somewhat emotional, overwhelmed by the sight of his son safe and alive. Valeria was too exhausted, too shaken, to respond in kind but weakly hugged Narcissa and Lucius, stirring in her own complex emotions.

“A—Are we going?” Draco asked.

“No,” Lucius insisted through his teeth. “We must stay. If we flee, they will think we’re on the other side and arrest us.”

Valeria hadn’t thought of that. The truth was, no one seemed to care about her or the other Malfoys, too wrapped up in their own victory celebration. She had been trying to breathe through each passing minute and had no strength to spare a thought to even the immediate future. The Malfoys, all four of them, overcome with their own anxieties and exhaustions sank to the floor again in their own part of the room, speaking quietly when they did. However, Valeria, who had been awake for over a day now, felt her body fail her and nodded off as she leaned against Draco.

“Hey…”

Valeria awoke from her uncertain slumber and blinked seeing Daphne and Blaise before them. Valeria was overcome with relief that they were both safe and got to her feet, followed by Draco. Daphne and Valeria embraced, the longest and tightest of their entire friendship.

“We’re about to go home,” Daphne said. “Our parents are probably losing their minds. Are you, uh, staying here?” Daphne looked nodded subtly to the elder Malfoys. Valeria nodded.

“For now, I think,” Valeria said.

“You can come with me, if you want. You’re always welcome at mine,” Daphne said.

“Thanks, but I have to stay,” Valeria said.

“Right. We’ll talk soon though?” Daphne said nervously.

“Of course,” replied Valeria. They shared one more bittersweet, quietly tearful hug, Valeria even embraced Blaise and thanked him for returning to fight. Daphne hugged Draco, which surprised Valeria, but Daphne said she’d explain later. Blaise and Draco shared a firm, but friendly, handshake before departing.

“You should eat,” Draco whispered, sometime later, as food was passed around. She shook her head weakly, the thought of food making her nauseous for now, wanting only the sleep her body demanded. Draco stood and helped her to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Narcissa asked quickly, grabbing at Draco’s sleeve.

“Taking her to rest,” Draco said, his voice coarse.

“We have to stay together,” Lucius said.

“I’ll be back,” Draco said and gently led Valeria away, ignoring his father’s quiet protests. He was thankful for the opportunity to go. He was glad to see his parents, by some miracle, alive and largely unscathed, but Lucius was already plotting how they were going to walk free after all they had done, citing his previous experience in worming his way out of punishment over a decade ago. The sound of his whirling words made Draco’s growing headache worse.

Valeria stopped in the Entrance Hall watching from afar as volunteers were slowly and respectively moving the dead. She saw them carrying Nymphadora Tonks out, her shroud had slipped a little and Valeria felt emotional at the sight, her eyes watering a little. She remembered speaking with Lupin, how she figured she would give Tonks some closure on the death of her friend Jane someday, if the time ever came. Valeria remembered the woman had recently had a baby. Draco gently urged her to follow him and she clutched his left arm in both hands, leaning her head on his shoulder as he led her down in silence to the Slytherin common room.

The girls’ dormitories were enchanted so as not to allow him up, he knew, so he gently nudged her up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. Valeria did not bother to change or take off her shoes, but crawled into Draco’s bed, which now felt like lying on a cloud, despite the odor of teenage boys that still lingered in the large, shared room.

“I’ll get you in a little while,” Draco whispered, resisting the urge to crawl in and fall asleep himself. But she grabbed his hand as he moved to walk away.

“Stay, at least until I’m asleep,” she asked in a breathy whisper. He nodded and sat up on the bed beside her, his hand in hers. He did not have long to wait, after only a couple minutes he felt her soft grip on his hand relax and her deep, steady breaths assured him she was at rest. He hated to go, but he knew his parents would panic before too long and he carefully climbed off the bed to create as little disturbance as possible.

He made his way up through the dungeons, borderline delirious himself with his swirling thoughts. The joyous sounds came into earshot, a dull roar of laughter and chatter at first, and then sharper as he drew nearer. He stood outside the Great Hall for a moment and rubbed his forehead to try to ease his throbbing headache.

“Malfoy.”

Draco looked up to see Potter flanked by Weasley and Granger. If Draco had his wits about him, he might have noticed that this was the first time he had met the three of them with no animosity passing between them, but still a high degree of awkward tension lingered. Draco didn’t have any words, but he acknowledged them with a stiff nod.

“Where’s Valeria, is she alri—?” Granger began softly.

“Asleep in the Slytherin dormitory,” Draco said, noticing how dry his own throat was as he spoke. Potter stepped forward.

“Can I…talk to you for a second? Alone?” Potter asked. Draco tensed a little and looked away, first to the Great Hall and then back towards the way he came from the dungeons. Potter nodded to his friends to dismiss them and hand-in-hand Granger and Weasley went back to the Great Hall. “She’ll be fine for a bit if she’s sleeping,” Potter continued, nodding towards the exit and not waiting for Draco. Hesitantly, Draco followed Potter out and stopped when Potter stopped, standing a fair bit away from him, but close enough to converse. Draco breathed in the crisp, spring breeze rolling off the Black Lake deeply, and the ache of his head subsided as the wind washed over his face.

Draco still kept his head down, wanting to avoid seeing the carnage that had yet to be magically repaired, though he squinted in the bright morning light, blanketing the ruins and perhaps already starting to heal this place. Potter turned to him and both boys couldn’t quite find the words to say to each other after all that had passed over all the years. Harry had tried rehearsing this in his head but was too exhausted himself to remember what he wanted to say.

“What do you want, Potter?” Draco finally said, agitated with the silence. It was ineloquent, perhaps his tone too terse, but some things might never change. Harry inhaled deeply, as if about to dive into unknown depth. He took a couple steps toward Draco, to get in arm’s reach of him and from his pocket removed Draco’s wand, handing it to its rightful owner. Draco had forgotten all about his wand, surprised at himself that such an important piece of his magical identity was a moment ago the least of his concerns. Their hands did not meet as Draco took the wand gently from Potter, rubbing his grip on it, feeling a little more whole again, before he stowed it away in a pocket. Draco didn’t manage words of gratitude but nodded while briefly looking Potter in the eye.

“You knew it was us at Malfoy Manor, you and Valeria. I guess…I owe you a thanks for that, sort of,” Harry said, fumbling for the words a bit. Draco looked away, out towards the Forbidden Forest, not wanting to remember. Harry must have read Draco’s unwillingness to speak of the events in Draco’s expression. “I won’t ask you why. I don’t think you’d tell me, and I don’t really care.” Draco continued to stew in his own silence and Harry did get a little childish satisfaction out of having a small amount of power over Draco but was altogether too done with hate to enjoy it. He meant his words earnestly. “What you did…for Valeria then and today…That was…it was—” Harry didn’t know what he was try to say. He was trying to express something along the lines of respect or admiration, in this regard only, but he couldn’t quite get there. He was starting to regret this chat; He should have just tossed Draco’s wand back to him and been done with it. Fortunately, he did not have long to wait as Draco sharply and defensively looked up at Potter at the sound of his wife’s name.

“I never…I never hurt her,” Draco said, his words getting ahead of him, practically blurting out his own defense. He didn’t know why, but a part of him wanted Potter to know that there was at least this good in him. After feeling the weight of the world’s blame for hers, and to an extent his own, suffering, he needed Potter to believe this.

“I know. She told us. Made sure we all believed it too,” Harry said. Draco nodded, feeling a little soothed. Of this, of her pain, he could perhaps be absolved. “You did right, by her at least, mostly, I think through all that. That’s pretty…honorable of you.” Harry had been preparing his whole adolescent life to face Voldemort, but nothing could have prepared him for this horrendously uncomfortable conversation.

“Not like we had much choice in it, Potter,” Draco said with a bit of his characteristic spite.

“Maybe. But you could have handled it worse. You made that choice,” Harry said, musing aloud.

“I was only keeping her safe and a fine job I made of it,” Draco said sarcastically, not wanting an ounce of Potter’s pity, but he collected himself. He paused. “We’re going to dissolve the marriage, she tell you?”

“She might have mentioned it,” Harry said, honestly unable to recall if Valeria had ever said anything of the sort.

“ _I_ made the decision,” Draco said, defending himself preemptively although Harry was not accusing him. “If… _he_ lost, I told her we’d erase the whole thing like it never happened.”

“Solid plan. She have anything to say about it?” Harry asked.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing, it’s just…she seemed pretty…devoted,” Harry said.

Draco scoffed a little. “It’s for the best.” He pinched the skin between his brow, wanting nothing more than to get out of this conversation. “Is that all you had for me, Potter?”

Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I don’t know the plan, and I don’t really care right now, but I’m going to guess that there’ll be some kind of trial, probably sooner rather than later.” Draco scowled, feeling his heart tense at the prospect.

“You don’t think I know that?” he spat. “Why do you think I want to end the marriage as soon as I can, you—” He stopped. “Valeria…”

“Her too, I expect,” Harry said.

“She had nothing to—”

“She did do things, Malfoy,” Harry said, as gently as he could.

“So you just called me out here to gloat. Should have known—” Draco began.

“If you’d let me finish,” Harry said, equally annoyed. “I brought it up to tell you that I will testify on both your behalves, if you let me. Your mum too. She saved my life in the forest, for your sake.” Draco looked at Potter as though the latter were possessed.

“We don’t need your pity, Potter,” Draco said, refusing to ask for further explanation.

“But you do need my help. I think my word’s going to be a bit more valuable than yours now, don’t you?” Harry defended.

“Why would you? What do you want from us?” Draco asked with great suspicion.

“I don’t want anything from either of you. I just want it to all to be over,” Harry said.

A shaky understanding passed between the two young men. For once, for the first time ever as far as Draco could remember, he agreed with Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're not quite done yet, but we'll be there soon. I promise I won't drag this thing out much longer. Once again, you all have my thanks for sticking with me and for all the support. Stay well, stay safe.


	38. The Trials of Draco and Valeria Malfoy

_"What's next?" she asked him._

_He squeezed a little. "I don't know. I don't care."_

_*****_

“Draco, _please_ don’t do this!” Narcissa tearfully pleaded with her son, having followed him to just outside the front gate of Malfoy Manor.

“My mind’s made up. I’m sorry,” Draco said, sure of himself, but feeling a tinge of guilt of the pain he was causing his mother. His father, who too had followed after Draco, put a hand roughly on Draco's shoulder.

“We _need_ to stay together as a family,” Lucius said aggressively, through his teeth. Draco pulled away from his father’s grasp.

“Valeria _is_ my family. Isn’t that what you told me right before you married us off?” Draco argued.

“You are not beholden to her whims—” Lucius said.

“I want this too!” Draco said.

“Maybe talk to her. Help her see reason. We just got our home back—” Narcissa said.

“The paperwork’s been done, and I can’t change it even if I wanted to. I have to go. I need to send an owl to the Ministry by five. I’ll write to you,” Draco said, walking away from his parents.

“Draco!” Lucius called authoritatively. But with the sound of a pop, Draco was gone.

Draco pulled his traveling cloak closer around him to prevent the chilly mountain wind from billowing it all about him. He approached the edge of the glassy lake, standing in the shadow of the Winters fortress and watched as the water rippled, forced out of the way by the stone bridge that ascended from the depths of nowhere. The great wooden doors at the other side opened as he crossed and just inside stood Valeria, with a gentle smile of welcome on her face. His bitterness towards his parents, as complex as it was, left him as he warmly embraced her and the doors shut behind them, keeping out the cold. He was filled with relief and he held her hard, still an stinging fear in him that she would ripped away from him again.

They had spent a couple miserable nights apart while Draco tied up loose ends at Malfoy Manor and sent off their belongings to Wales, the last of which arrived shortly before his departure from his family home. Valeria had gone on ahead to ready the Winters’ small castle for use as her and Draco’s home, for now.

“When do our babysitters arrive?” Draco asked sarcastically, Tilly the house elf taking his traveling cloak.

“Tomorrow morning, so I’m told,” she said. Draco scoffed, finding the need to have two aurors posted outside day and night wholly unnecessary. They weren’t permitted access to portkeys and would be in violation of the terms of their house arrest if they attempted to fashion any. The floo had been closed as well, which was all the same to both of them. The aurors, to his mind, were just overkill. “The better we cooperate—”

“I know, I know,” Draco said.

“We’ve already asked enough. I wouldn’t push any limits with them until this is over,” Valeria said wisely. Draco reluctantly admitted she was right. It was she who had negotiated the terms of their house arrest, fully agreeing to comply without a whisper of a complain only if she could serve the time until trial in her own family home. Draco had quickly requested to accompany her to his parents horrified protestations. Valeria insisted that she refused to spend another night at Malfoy Manor and Draco, though far more comfortable there than she was, had to agree. Too much had occurred in those walls. Too long had it felt so unlike home.

While the world outside celebrated with ceaseless jubilation over the Dark Lord’s defeat, Valeria and Draco could live with retreating back into their own world; The only world that had brought them any hope or comfort throughout their ordeal. The conditions of their confinement were clear; They were not to leave to premises save for attending their trials or those of their immediate family members. The house elf would be allowed to leave to stock the kitchen or run errands. They were not to have any unapproved contact with anyone, and all correspondence was subject to random investigation. They were to quietly serve this time until the results of their trial were determined.

It had been Draco’s choice to stay with his wife. Malfoy Manor was too cold and empty, corrupted by darkness, and he found himself in a constant state of lonely agitation while apart. He could not last much longer without his mind unraveling. He was completely and utterly dependent on her presence at his side, in arm’s reach. He needed her.

Draco quickly sent off an owl to inform the Ministry of his punctual arrival to his place of confinement, as stipulated in the fine print of the terms. He followed Valeria up the stairs and through the narrow, ancient stone walls illuminated by magical torchlight, up to largest bedroom in the castle. Many of the trunks full of belongings remained unpacked and the room was in a state of disarray even though Valeria had been working for the past two days to get it all ready.

“I had to pack and send mother’s things to Estonia, purge the things in my old room and store away my father’s things. Even with magic, it’s taken longer than I expected,” Valeria explained. Draco didn’t think it was necessary to complete the daunting task of refitting the castle as their own home all at once but was not about to argue. He took the wiser route and helped her get the room livable so they would have somewhere to sleep comfortably that night.

They indeed retired early that night. Draco fell asleep more quickly than he had in weeks, though he wished he would have stayed awake longer to savor lying close in the same bed again. it was an uneasy rest at best. He relived the Battle of Hogwarts in his dreams ceaselessly and he was not surprised to wake himself up with his own gasps, sitting bolt upright in bed, panting in a cold sweat. He waited until the pain in his chest subsided and he breathed with some regularity before getting out of bed, careful to pull the covers back over Valeria, who still slept deep.

He knew he’d be unable to fall asleep again and he resolved himself to keep busy to keep the horrors of the recent past at bay. Wand illuminated, he made his way down the tower’s spirals staircase and through the narrow halls, flinching at unexpected shadows in the unfamiliar home. He closed the door of Hieronymus Winters’s old study, which he had gotten Valeria’s permission to use. The large, austere room was the very same one that he and Valeria had spied upon fifth year, he painfully remembered.

None of Hieronymus’s things had been touched, seeming to be just as he left them. Even the house elf seemed to have neglect it some as there was a musty smell of dust that sent Draco back to Hogwarts again, the smell of powdered stone as the walls had crumbled resembled that of dust. Draco carefully and respectfully made a place for himself at the desk and removed a few gigantic, cumbersome old tomes from a trunk that had been sent ahead of him.

He combed through a particularly old, ugly book of legal scholarship that he had secretly _borrowed_ from Lucius’s collections. Draco’s heart was strangled with anxiety, and he was looking for a way out. His formal request to dissolve his marriage had been denied, shocking and infuriating him, and he was desperately searching for something, anything, that could aid him in his attempt to appeal the decision. He had thought of bribery, but the political climate was against him enough that he knew he couldn’t get away with it. He couldn’t understand the decision, and no explanation was given to him as to why a Ministry supposedly being built for a morally sound future would allow a forced, arranged marriage to remain intact against their will. Something about it felt cruel and vengeful to him.

The other thing that worried him was that no legal representation would take their case. He had sent letters to each and every one of his father’s old contacts that he could remember, and they all turned him down. His fears of being seen as a perpetrator more than victim were coming true. No one was interested in defending a Death Eater, even though Draco had offered each of them to name any price they wished. Valeria knew about the denial to dissolve the marriage, but he could not bear to tell her how profoundly he was failing her again based on their poor reputation alone. She was fragile enough now as it was. They both were.

He wrote a few more requests for representation to send out in the morning when he got tired of the legal books. He wrote so furiously that his wrist ached when he had finished and he sat with elbows resting on the stately desk, rubbing his face in his hands. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a knock on the door. He sighed and welcomed the knocker in, ready to tell the over-attentive house elf off, if needed.

But he was relieved, even pleasantly surprised, to see his wife enter in her silken night-robe holding two goblets and a bottle of wine. Tentatively, she approached him and poured them each a cup. Rather than take the chair opposite the desk, she gracefully made herself a place on his lap as she handed him his cup.

“I got worried when you weren’t in bed,” she said, brushing his hair out of his face and it made his heart skip a beat, as if it was being resuscitated back to life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, genuinely. “How’d you know I was in here?”

“Saw the light from under the door and fetched the bottle,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said, grateful for the wine as he took a sip.

“What are you working on?”

“Legal stuff. Research, I guess,” he said, not wanting to reveal the whole truth for now.

“Draco, there’s nothing we can do about any of it right now. You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep worrying—” she said. Perhaps she knew him better than he thought.

“And you aren’t worried?” he asked gently.

“Of course, I am,” she said. “That’s why I’ve been going mad getting this place ready for us. I thought it’d get easier if I kept busy.”

“So did I.” He paused. “You haven’t touched this room.”

She sighed. “I didn’t have the heart to yet. This is the first time I’ve even come in here. I haven’t touched Konstantin’s either.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he reassured her, squeezing her waist a little as he paused. “You think we’ll be alright?”

“Potter said he’d defend us, right?” she asked softly.

“If we can trust him,” Draco said, a bit bitterly, looking down at the stacks of futile work on the desk before them. She set down her goblet on the desk, and Draco held her by the waist so she wouldn’t fall as she leaned. She directed his chin to look up at her with her free hand.

“We’re alright for now. We’re here, for now. That’s all we got,” she said, as if trying to convince herself of it too. He knew she was right, though his fears ate at him. Despite the pain unspoken that they both held in their hearts, there was something about having this time to breathe that Draco selfishly craved. There were no other Death Eater’s crawling the halls, there were no prisoners in the cellars and the threats of death now lived solely in their own heads as ghosts of the recent past.

Valeria didn’t need to ask after what she already knew. Neither had been able to rest since the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco had been having flashbacks and nightmares, the same as her. Valeria had jumped at every unexpected noise and half expected an enemy lurking around every dim corner. She had stacked the newspapers that continued arrive in an unattended pile in her old bedroom. She had looked at only one and immediately cast it aside when she saw it was half comprised of obituaries.

The war had ended. But not for them.

At a loss for words, so much to say, but none that wouldn’t cause them more grief, Draco set his own cup down and kissed Valeria. He remembered how much they had indulged in each other when all seemed so hopeless and he knew he was being selfish again.

Breakfast was quite late the next morning and they both had pounding headaches from the previous night’s libations. Draco kept his tired eyes on _The Daily Prophet_ as each day more and more of his former fellows were caught. Word had yet to arrive that day regarding the date of their own trial, but Valeria guessed that other Death Eaters, who had been much more violently instrumental to Voldemort’s cause than either of them, were the Ministry’s bigger priority.

Both she and Draco cringed at the gong-like sound of the disembodied bell that rang throughout the castle, loud sounds were especially painful in their state. Draco cursed at the noise but remembered that the sound announced an arrival.

“Did you invite my parents?” he asked, praying that they hadn’t found a way to arrive.

“They’re on house arrest too,” she reminded him, getting up from her seat at the table.

“Is it your mother?” Draco asked, fearing that possibility even more.

“She’ll be taken into custody as soon as she enters the country and I already saw the aurors outside this morning. It can’t be her,” Valeria said from the doorway. Draco followed her out and to the front doors which opened in response to a wave of Valeria’s wand.

“You have a visitor,” one of the aurors, Williamson, said flatly. A man cloaked and carrying a briefcase waved from further down the path and beamed at the Malfoys as he stopped to greet them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, a pleasure to see you again. In case you don’t remember I’m—” he began. Draco immediately distrusted the man’s cheerful disposition.

“Mr. Cartwright, of course. Draco, he gave me away at our wedding, an old friend of my brother’s,” Valeria introduced.

“And what do you want from us?” Draco asked, a tad impatient. Valeria shot him a scolding glare for his impoliteness, but felt the same confusion and suspicion.

“I’m here to offer my services as your legal counsel in the matter of your eventual trials. If you don’t mind, I suggest we take further conversation somewhere private, as the privilege of confidentiality is law,” Leonard Cartwright said, side-eying Williamson.

“Of course, be our guest,” Valeria said, allowing him in and calling for the house elf, who took Leonard’s cloak.

“Can I ask how you managed to come here without an invitation?” Draco asked as they went to the study.

“Konstantin, of course. Gave me an indefinite invitation several years ago, though I must say I still had trouble finding the place this time,” Leonard said as he settled into a chair opposite the desk. Draco and Valeria sat together on the other side. Leonard opened his briefcase and with a wave of his wand, stacks of documents contained within flew elegantly out and reorganized themselves on the desk. Leonard removed his writing supplies and tapped the quill with his wand so it could record the meeting on its own.

“How’d you know we’d been looking for representation?” Draco asked.

“With all due respect, Mr. Malfoy, you’ve been sending inquiries to nearly every expert in Magical Law on these isles. Word like that travels fast in our field. I think the muggles have a phrase about lawyers and gossip, maybe they don’t,” Leonard said. Draco flushed pink a little in embarrassment that word of their predicament had spread. “I assure you I am fully experienced and fully qualified. I have my licenses and credentials, if you’d like to see them.”

Valeria turned down his offer, but Draco was not satisfied himself. “And why have you decided to take our cases when no one else would?”

Leonard laughed. “Usually I’m the one who asks all the questions.” He leaned forward with a more serious expression. “Konstantin was a good friend of mine. It’s a bit of an unspoken thing amongst friends that you look out for their loved ones. That’s exactly what I intend to do, if you’ll have me.” Draco looked at Valeria.

“Doesn’t sound like we have much of a choice, Draco,” she said, her body tense.

“We’ll talk first,” Draco said.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less. Now, I’ve managed to pull some records and get some insight from the Ministry in regard to both of your cases. You’ve attempted to dissolve the marriage—”

“It was denied. I plan to appeal—” Draco began.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Leonard said.

“Excuse me?”

“If you stay married for at least the duration of your trial they cannot force you testify against each other, for one thing. Secondly, I doubt the Ministry will take any action until the conclusion of your trial anyway,” Leonard explained. Draco pinched the skin between his brows.

“Shit…” he said under his breath.

“I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. We could play it to our advantage,” Leonard said.

“How do you mean?” Valeria asked, curiosity piqued.

“It’s sensational, isn’t it? Two young people forced into a marital union for propagandic purposes. We could absolutely make you two so sympathetic that there’d be a public outcry if there were any punitive action taken against you,” Leonard said. Valeria considered it, though Draco seemed unconvinced.

“That might be worth a try, Draco,” she said. “Harry Potter also told Draco that he’d defend us at our trial, at least speak up on our behalf.”

Leonard’s eyes widened almost greedily. “If _that’s_ the case, then we’re nearly as good as gold. I’m sure he’s a hard man to get an appointment with, but I’ll see what I can do about contacting him.”

“I don’t want any more attention on us than there already is,” Draco said.

“I’m afraid that’s unavoidable, sir. There’s already a lot of public talk about your…well, what happened to you. But I like to believe that attention is good, as long as we ensure it’s the right kind.”

“Were you by chance in Slytherin? I never asked,” Valeria said. Leonard flashed a smile.

“Yes, ma’am, proudly,” he said.

“That hardly solves the rest of our problems. I…both of us, have…done things—” Draco said awkwardly, not wanting to think on it.

Leonard’s tone and demeanor became more serious. “As to that, we’ll have to start with both of you telling me everything that happened.”

“Is that necessary?” Draco asked darkly.

“You’ll both have to do it again at trial under Ministry interrogation. Might be a good opportunity to get in some practice,” Leonard said.

Hesitantly, Draco and Valeria told Leonard the entire ordeal going back to before even the Department of Mysteries. It was an emotionally fraught and toilsome task, each tragedy told in full detail. Leonard too seemed disturbed to hear much of it and some things from Draco’s side of the story made Valeria feel sick. Leonard’s self-writing quill was nearly out of parchment by the time they had finished.

He left without much ado after negotiating the cost of his services with Draco. Though he claimed he would have done it pro bono, defending a Death Eater and his wife free of charge would have been a bit too scandalous. Valeria should have felt relieved that at least someone was on their side, though recalling the depths of her pain had dulled her spirits. Draco felt the same and he looked at her, his guilt once more eating away at him from the inside out. If only he could have wasted himself to bear her suffering, he would have gladly done it once more.

They were not prepared for Lucius’s trial. They had dressed their best and it was the first time they left the castle in weeks. Narcissa wept quietly by Draco’s side during the entire ordeal and Valeria kept her hand on Draco’s knee, as he was tasked with comforting his mother. She kept their heads down, gaze forward at Lucius as the dirty details of his life as Death Eater came out in the open. He was a shell. There was nothing left of her commanding, imposing father-in-law. The Wizengamot especially admonished him for his failure to protect Draco and Valeria from their use as the Dark Lord’s propagandic pawns.

But Lucius was still as cunning as ever. He named all of his own comrades freely and with no hint of loyalty to the cause he once dedicated his life, his family’s lives, to. He had been without a wand for so much of the war that he claimed to be more of a pawn himself, a victim too, rather than the right-hand man he once was. His defection, so he claimed, at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts too left little legal recourse. Valeria suspected Lucius had his hands in someone’s pockets again. After all, money had saved him before and there was a fair bit of economic uncertainty as the wizarding world rebuilt itself.

To Valeria’s shock, he walked free. Draco did not seem happy nor unhappy with the decision. They tried to leave quietly, even as Narcissa begged them to return to Malfoy Manor, but Draco refused. Their quiet exit was fruitless as Draco and Valeria were swarmed by cameras, their trial dates recently announced had brought about new interest in them.

_Will you divorce?_

_Did you marry for love?_

_Are you expecting, Mrs. Malfoy?_

Were just a few of the questions Valeria managed to catch as they tried to leave, urged away Draco's firm hand. Draco was pretty quiet the rest of the night. The next morning, their faces, along with the elder Malfoys’ were on the front page of _The Daily Prophet._ Draco tossed it in the fireplace before reading it. He wished there was spell to will the clock to stop as the days inched toward the date of their respective trials. 

“Remember, Mrs. Malfoy, garner as much sympathy as you can,” Leonard whispered just as the doors opened and an auror led her and Leonard in to face the Wizengamot.

“The Wizengamot will now hear the case of _The Ministry of Magic vs. Valeria Malfoy_. The defendant, Valeria Terpsichore Malfoy stands accused of the following crimes:

Brewing of illegal poison on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Theft of Polyjuice Potion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Unauthorized brewing of Polyjuice Potion at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Attempted murder of Ronald Weasley.

Practice of the Dark Arts on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on multiple counts.

Conspiracy in the plot to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Conspiracy in the assassination of Albus Dumbledore.

Obstruction of justice in the assassination of Albus Dumbledore

Obstruction of justice in the harboring of Death Eater and alleged war criminal Draco Malfoy.

Obstruction of justice in abetting fugitive Odessa Winters.

The use of the Cruciatus Curse against Jane Masters.

Aiding and abetting in the murder of Jane Masters.

The use of Dark and/or Unforgivable Curses while attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on multiple counts.

Coercion against Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott via threats of pain and suffering.

Aiding in cruel and unusual punishment against multiple underage students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The use of the Cruciatus Curse against Neville Longbottom.

The attempted murder of Ginevra Weasley.

Aiding in the kidnapping of Luna Lovegood.

Abetting in the unlawful imprisonment of Garrick Ollivander, Jane Masters, the Goblin Griphook, and Luna Lovegood.

Forceful administration of Veritaserum against Luna Lovegood.

Aiding in the capture and resulting in inhumane torture of Michael Corner.

Aiding and abetting Death Eaters Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Attempted murder of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Murder of Bellatrix Lestrange.

How do you plead, Mrs. Malfoy?” Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt asked when he had finished stating Valeria’s crimes. The court and audience were eerily silent, not even the hint of a murmur left anyone’s throats, after the reading of the lengthy list of war crimes. Leonard had assured her that many of those charges would be dropped, as some had aided the fight against Voldemort. Valeria swallowed.

“Not guilty,” Valeria said weakly, her hands neatly in her lap. That’s when the murmuring began, which Shacklebolt quickly silenced.

“Minister, ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot,” Leonard began with an authoritative tone. “The defense argues that Mrs. Malfoy’s crimes were committed while she was either underage, in self-defense or under duress while at risk of great personal peril up to and including death.”

Shacklebolt nodded and turned his gaze back onto Valeria. “Your ordeal has caused a great deal of sensation and rumor in the wizarding world, Mrs. Malfoy. I suggest we begin by clearing the air and have you tell us the entire story start to finish. Choose your words wisely.”

Valeria cleared her throat and did as she was asked, trying to maintain her composure as she had been trained her entire life to do. However, there were several points in which she failed. Speaking of her brother and Jane Masters in particular, her voice trembled as she fought back tears. The skirmish at Malfoy Manor in which Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her too was emotionally excruciating to retell. The sobering tale seemed to subdue the crowd as hardly anyone moved in their seats as she, feeling particularly humiliated, laid out her experiences in agonizing detail.

“Has the defense any witnesses to testify on Mrs. Malfoy’s behalf?” Shacklebolt asked, his voice now softer, after she had finished.

“We summon Draco Malfoy first to the stand,” Leonard said. Draco rose from the audience and came to his place as witness. Even in his own trembling voice, quite obviously disturbed of listening to Valeria’s story again, he stood firm in his defense. He was the one who orchestrated the plot to assassinate Dumbledore and used her as an unwitting pawn. He had directed her behavior after they had married. He had manipulated her to aid in the kidnapping of Luna Lovegood. His testimony bore more relation to a confession than a defense and Valeria wiped her tears in silence to hear him speak, finding it torturous to remain seated as she heard him.

“The defense summons Neville Longbottom to the stand,” Leonard said after Draco’s dismissal. That made Valeria nervous, considering how fraught the schoolyear at Hogwarts had been. Neville was now a war hero in the eyes of the wizarding world and his testimony could make or break her case. Neville’s testimony was naturally less forgiving than Draco’s, but he clarified that Valeria refused to torture him in detention when she could have, indeed was supposed to. She had also given them the password to Snape’s office, aiding the rebellion, albeit fruitlessly, at Hogwarts. Valeria realized only now and with shame that if Neville hadn’t stepped forward to distract the Dark Lord at the Battle of Hogwarts, both she and Draco would be dead.

“The defense summons Harry Potter to the stand,” Leonard called after dismissing Neville. The murmuring began as Valeria turned to see Harry arrive at his place. The crowd was far more interested in his testimony than any other, of course. Valeria sat in anxious silence as she heard his plea. Valeria had aided in the transport of Harry to the Burrow. She committed herself to the Order, offering her own home as a safe house for him and later Potterwatch, only to have her memories altered by Snape after her capture for her own protection. She had not given Harry and his friends over when she had the chance. She had given them information, she had cooperated while in their company, aided them at Gringotts and nearly got herself captured in Hogsmeade for their sakes. Most notably, she did not turn against them at the Battle of Hogwarts.

“This has to end. I want it to end here,” Potter said at the end of his testimony.

Potter spoke the longest and surest. Afterwards, Valeria was dismissed to a private room and the audience vacated while the Wizengamot deliberated. Valeria was exhausted after having sat in such a nerve-wracking and emotionally tumultuous state for hours. It was another great deal of time before the Wizengamot reconvened.

“In the case of _The Ministry of Magic vs. Valeria Malfoy_ we find the defendant not guilty on charges which occurred before she turned seventeen. As for the attempted murder and subsequent murder of Bellatrix Lestrange, we clear the defendant of these of these charges. For the others, we believe the defendant was more of a victim than an instrumental actor in Lord Voldemort’s cause. We find the defendant not guilty and cleared of all charges. Mrs. Malfoy, your home will be subject to random Ministry inspection for dark objects and practice for a period of three years. You are otherwise free to go,” Shacklebolt ruled.

There was a great hubbub in the audience as Valeria breathed with great relief and borderline disbelief. Draco darted down from the audience and embraced her and she could not help herself but weep.

Sitting for Draco’s trial, with an even longer list of crimes, just over a week later, however, was worse than sitting for her own. She sat with Narcissa and Lucius, and Narcissa was beside herself with fear and turmoil at watching her own son’s interrogation. Leonard called Valeria to testify and she, strengthened by her own innocence, defended Draco with all the cold poise that befitted her maiden name. She insisted Draco never harmed her, that he had no say in the event of their marriage nor in the authority over her that had been thrust upon him.

Potter also testified for Draco, which once more the Wizengamot heeded with much more seriousness. Draco had not killed Dumbledore and in fact Dumbledore had orchestrated his own demise, knowing full well Draco was tasked to assassinate him. He went to great lengths to detail Draco’s actions at the skirmish of Malfoy Manor; How he too did not identify him when it would have been in Draco’s best interest to do so and how he prevented Valeria from a likely death at great sacrifice to himself. Draco had, albeit inadvertently, ensured Harry’s survival and therefore the eventual downfall of Voldemort.

Draco was also declared not guilty, even if not innocent. Valeria likewise rushed to him after the ruling and they could barely speak, overcome by their great relief and bittersweet joy.

Valeria and Draco retreated back to Wales, much to Lucius’s and Narcissa’s dismay. With a finality that only a legal system could provide, the war was well and truly over. It was time to move on. Yet, the two found themselves unable to do so fully. Professor McGonagall had sent them both letters, inviting them both back to Hogwarts to repeat their seventh year in the event that they wished to complete their educations properly. They both immediately declined. Hogwarts was too painful, too corrupted in their memories and neither were ready to spend much time in public. For though they had been declared legally innocent, they correctly sensed that suspicion of them had yet to fade. After all, both their families were rather famous for their abilities to influence and strategize themselves away from consequences. They had both caused so much pain and heartache that they agreed it was for the best that they avoid showing much of themselves to anyone.

Valeria visited Draco one night as he was up late once more in her father’s old study.

“What are you working on now?” she asked him.

“Now that we’re _free_ ,” he said with some sarcasm. “I’m working on this appeal for dissolving our marriage.”

Valeria considered a moment. “And what would we do after?”

“Separate our assets, first. It’ll be a pain in the ass to divide our fortunes, since we’re both legally entitled to half of each other’s. I say that any funds under the Winters umbrella are yours and vice versa for anything with the Malfoy name on it, but I doubt the Ministry will see it so cut and dry—” he rambled.

“No, I mean what would _we_ do?”

He stopped. “I don’t know. Hadn’t thought that far.”

“Would you go back to your parents?” she asked. He furrowed his brow.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’d want to,” he said softly.

“Then we live in sin?” she said with a little smirk. He rolled his eyes.

“This is serious, Val,” he said. She perked up at the sound of the short nickname. He hadn’t called her that in a long time. He was the only that ever had at all. She looked at him with a feeling of tender earnestness in her heart as he looked down at the document he had been drafting. He wore a somber expression and she could read him so easily now that she understood what he felt, for she felt, somewhere deep down, the same thing.

“Why not just…let it stand?” she asked. He looked at her with shocked confusion.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“That wasn’t what we agreed to. I promised you that if the Dark Lord lost, we’d end this, and I will not be the one to keep you in this—”

“We’ve made a lot of promises to each other, Draco. We’ve made good on all of them…sort of. Maybe we can break this one. We can get a divorce if we want at some point—”

“This isn’t a divorce. We’re asking for the marriage to be dissolved and declared void since it was arranged by force when neither of us wanted it. Leonard’s been helping me with this for weeks. It’d be like it never happened. We can start over. We can both move on,” Draco said.

“Do you want to move on?” she asked. Draco was taken aback by the question and sat quietly for a few agonizing moments as he considered.

“No.”

She approached him and turned the parchment he had been writing on over.

“I’m tired. You’re tired. We can finally have some time to breathe. After everything, I don’t think I’m ready to end it,” she said softly. He looked up at her and he too knew the truth. Unraveling themselves from each other, legally or otherwise, was impossible for them. Neither truly had the heart to do it. They had endured too much and for too long found a modicum of peace only in each other. There was also the fact that Draco loved her, well and fully, and was infinitely drawn to her by an inseverable bond.

“Is that what you want?” he whispered. She nodded and smiled a little. Draco’s heart fluttered a little to see it. That small grin faintly resembled the snide little smirk she so often wore before the world fell apart. Seeing it now did more for him than he could have anticipated, and had he been thinking deeper, he would have wondered if it was a sign that who she was, who he thought had died long ago, was coming back to life. He set down the quill and kissed his wife, sealing their decision.

All was not well, but it was well enough. That would have to do for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left. Thank you all for all the support and love. I'm sorry this was long and not as action-packed, but there were loose ends that I needed to tie up. Stay well, stay safe.


	39. Epilogue: Scorpius

The young Malfoys had developed a sort of lazy routine in the months following their trial. The Winters estate in Wales started to feel more like home as the time passed, but Valeria found herself getting antsy, perhaps a bit stir-crazy, in their choice to stay mostly isolated from the world. Going out, as they seldom did, was often marred by stares and odd looks from those they passed or encountered, sometimes even invasive questions that Draco quickly, often rudely, shut down. Still rather sensitive from all they endured, these instances picked at their still-fresh wounds.

It was around mid-winter that Valeria, with Draco’s encouragement, looked into options for the future. Horace Slughorn was surprisingly helpful and made a recommendation, despite her not formally completing her education, to apprentice under a Potions Master and magical philosopher in Russia near St. Petersburg. She was quickly accepted, and she asked Draco to accompany her, who happily went rather than spend the two years she would be away with his parents. The awkward tension between them and his parents had yet to end and Draco didn’t have much hope that it would anytime soon. Draco too felt he could not separate long from Valeria without feeling as though he’d been ripped in half.

Valeria never felt more like her old self during those years. She learned a great deal under the old wizard’s tutelage, who though he studied dark magic and dark subjects, was undoubtedly one of the gentlest souls she ever met. She admired him greatly and thoroughly enjoyed long discussions on cold winter evenings whilst waiting for ingredients to brew in cauldrons. Dark topics were strictly off-limits back home, and it would have been quite the scandal to admit her interests were she there. Here she had the intellectual freedom to study her interests, forged during her Hogwarts years, in a purely academic fashion.

Draco too made himself busy during their time in Russia. He had become increasingly interested in dark artefacts, though he was careful to keep his fascination at a distance. Alchemical works became his chief hobby. Close to the Estonian border it was a short distance, in comparison to Wales, to visit Odessa. The reunion with her mother that Valeria had looked forward to was marred by Odessa bursting into tears at the sight of her daughter’s facial scar. Odessa insisted there must be some way to get rid of it, even after Valeria reiterated how she had tried everything and not even the most luxurious magical salves would conceal it.

Draco followed along as Valeria insisted upon visiting, though she never forced him to join her, but he felt he had a duty to do so. Odessa’s sanity did not recover, and the woman only spoke of vengeance and a new day when pure blood would rule again, albeit in a less cruel way, once the newly formed Ministry inevitably fell apart. Odessa’s harping on Valeria’s scar bothered him the most and Draco graciously tried to cut visits short when he sensed Valeria getting upset.

After two years, they visited Blaise Zabini who had left for Italy in a desire to get away from the United Kingdom. Daphne had joined him to pursue her post-Hogwarts education there. It was one of the most pleasant times in Valeria’s life so far and Blaise and Draco seemed to easily mend any old wounds that lingered. The Malfoys decided, however, that returning to Wales suited them best and came home to naught but a lonely house elf and the pestering of Draco’s parents to visit them.

Taking time away had been the wisest choice and the following few years were some of the most peaceful of their lives thus far. They explored their respective interests within the safe stone walls of the Winters fortress. They did venture to Wiltshire too for awkward dinners with Draco’s parents, in which Draco suffered through his own complex resentments and kept his mouth shut. However, he would not hesitate to cut the visits short when Lucius would ceaselessly harp on the need for a Malfoy heir.

They refused to be ignorant about their world despite their seclusion, having enough strength now to follow the news each day. Draco often read with pain of memory about the arrests of his former fellows, Death Eaters who were once on the run. Valeria anonymously gave a handsome sum to the family of Jane Masters after tracking them down via Ministry records, thanks to Leonard Cartwright's shrewd legal skill. She hoped it would help cover some expenses of theirs, but did it primarily to do some right by the girl Konstantin loved. Draco did the math after the fact, out of sheer curiosity, to find that Valeria had unwittingly donated enough for the family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. The ins and outs of muggle currency and conversion from wizarding currency were of little concern to her at the time, but she supposed that was why the goblins at Gringotts had eyed her so curiously. There was no regret in this discovery for at least Valeria could guarantee the Masters’ care in their old age, though that was little assurance after Jane’s loss, she supposed. Unbeknownst to her, the Masters had tried to hunt down the mysterious benefactor unsuccessfully with only this note to go on,

_In honor of Jane. Given on behalf of someone who loved her dearly._

Draco and Valeria, keeping this gesture in mind, often gave funds to those struggling still after the war; Orphaned children, memorials to those lost, relief causes, destroyed homes and buildings. Hogwarts was one of their donations, granting the institution a significant amount to replace instructors and expand the curriculum. All this done with the utmost discretion and anonymity. It might have been selfish on their part, a way to pay some kind of penance for their crimes, but it was better to do even a little good, Draco figured, if the plan was to hide away for the rest of their lives, which it seemed to be.

They seldom talked on the future and what to do in the long run, largely content with their independent studies and hobbies, but Draco believed that this lack of planning was more likely a psychological holdover from the war when even the next hour was so often uncertain. As the next few years carried on, his mother and Odessa would pester them for grandchildren via letters and in person while his father would give him lectures about maintaining and strengthening the Malfoy bloodline. Draco would ask his father why the purity of the bloodline even mattered anymore now that the world had changed, but Lucius implied that the cause was not lost, which frightened Draco. He ignored his father’s ravings, having had his fill of such talk and reasoning at seventeen and he had little mettle to tolerate it now, becoming more adamant with age.

In his words, he would tell his wife he “ _could not give less of a shit_ ” about his familial legacy, content to put his inheritance into some kind of trust that would go to some good deed, including the extensive property on the Malfoy estate, when the time came. Valeria was much in agreement and brushed off any pressure that came from their families, happy to let her own estate fall into disrepair and eventually myth after her death, or donating it to the study of magical protections, as the magic was so ancient, its secrets had long been a mystery.

It was not the life neither he nor Valeria wanted as children, but it was the only one they wanted now. To have some peace and to be together. Though it was not always dour and serious, the opposite was the case for the most part, in fact. They read together, laughed together and found their ways of enjoying themselves in their self-imposed seclusion. When the lake surrounding their home froze in the winter, they would walk around the slippery ice to exhaustion, laughing the whole time as they tried to avoid slipping and falling. They sometimes used magic to make it more interesting. Draco loved flying around on his broom in the warmer months around the isolated Welsh mountains, free and unseen. Valeria had been receptive at times to fly with him, though her interest was intermittent, and she adamantly required that he fly easy with her, which he mostly abided by. The long winter nights were sometimes spent with wine and laughter. Those nights were Valeria’s favorite.

It was on a night such as that, shortly after the passing of a new year as Valeria and Draco were entering their mid-twenties, wherein the two indulged in a little too much ice wine given as a holiday gift from the winery the Winters family still held stock in. They were still celebrating, in their own way, enchanting an old piano to play alone and dancing, their steps albeit hindered by inebriation, which led inevitably to another passionate night of intimacy. Overcome by a romantic sort of drunken fire, they forewent the usual protections they employed while intimate and discovered the unintended consequences of their lustful forgetfulness a month or so later.

The sobering discovery was followed by an anxious, fearful and long conversation. They sat together tearfully, overwhelmed by the prospect of a brining a child, _their_ child into the world, a world they did not really feel they belonged in themselves. Draco hardly felt himself up to such a task. But life had become a bit lonely and routine, as much as they cherished it. They desired more, somewhere deep down, as dictated by their natures. They kept the news to themselves for many months, taking the time to discuss their own parents’ failures from their own upbringings, easier to see now as adults. There were many difficult discussions on how to not pass on their own sins, their pain, to whoever this new person would become.

Only Valeria’s medical caretakers knew their secret and Draco had sought only the best, sparing no expense. No luxury was too modest, no need too trivial nor any desire too frivolous to his mind when it came to her and what her body was doing. His instinctual response was to protect, even still. Draco was bound and determined that if he was destined to be a father, he would begin immediately. It was one lesson that his own father had taught him well; A man takes care of his family.

They didn’t tell their parents until practically the eve of the child’s birth, much to their families’ rage. Their complaints subsided only when they felt relief that the union would produce issue, to Draco’s annoyance. Draco had never been prouder of Valeria the autumn night that their son was born. She had given him the option to stay away for the process, a bit ashamed at the prospect of him seeing her in such an ugly state, to her mind, but he refused. The only thing that could keep him from her side was her outright command that he stay away, which she did not give. Valeria carefully handed the child into Draco’s nearly trembling arms and he found himself more terrified of his newborn than almost anything else he had encountered.

“Those Malfoy genes are damn strong,” Valeria joked, but Draco disagreed apart from the small amount of white-blond hair atop the child’s head. Looking at the child, the innocent creature who had no ability to fathom the world nor the family he had been born into, Draco silently swore to do right as a father; To do the very damn best he could and that nothing could stand in the way of this determination. Photographs were taken only after everything had been cleaned and Valeria composed herself, at her insistence. She wanted no memory of evidence of the violence of giving birth. They agreed not to run a photograph in the birth announcement printed in _The Daily Prophet_ the following day, which Draco wrote and sent himself,

_Valeria and Draco Malfoy of Snowdonia, Wales, announce the birth of their first child, their son Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Scorpius arrived at 3:57 AM on 24 October 2006 at home. He weighed 7lbs and 8oz. Paternal grandparents are Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy of Wiltshire. Maternal grandparents are Odessa and the late Hieronymus Winters, formerly of Snowdonia._

Draco sat back in his chair in the study that had been refitted as his own, overtired but still allowing himself to smile softly as he read. The modest announcement, to him, overshadowed the pages of dark rumors that his former comrades, those still on the run, were still plotting dark deeds even now. He rolled up his left sleeve and flexed his arm. The Dark Mark had faded over time, leaving only a red imprint that more closely resembled a scar than a brand. Some wounds would never fully heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes The Undoing and the Quocumque Modo series. I have a lot to say, but I've decided to keep this endnote brief. I'd like to thank everyone who gave this story a shot and stuck with me. Thank you for the amazing comments, kudos, support and encouragement. Thanks for putting up with my weird updating schedule and my egregious typos (which I'm still editing out!) I posted all this on a whim, just for funzies, and I never really expected it to get any attention so it's all been so flattering and wonderful. 
> 
> I am in the process of developing a sequel primarily focusing on Scorpius (yes, I stole him from canon,) but Draco and Valeria will still feature, naturally. I will probably make the first post on that soon, so look out for that if you're interested. 
> 
> Again, thank you all so much. This has been a great deal of fun and it's weird to me that's it's (kind of) over. Stay well, stay safe, as always.


End file.
